


Hands Down

by The_Quartermasters



Category: One Piece
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, F/M, M/M, Matchmaking, Multi, Seduction, Threesome - F/M/M, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6366697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Quartermasters/pseuds/The_Quartermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after her arrival, Zoro hasn't accepted Nico Robin into the crew but she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she is very interested in him. And in his chemistry with the ship's cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another re-post, this one was written in September 2006.

"You do not trust me, Swordsman-san," was the breathy murmur that warmed the back of Zoro's neck.

When he opened his eyes, the bunkroom was dark, Luffy was snoring and he was alone on the sofa, the room utterly still. 

* * *

The next morning, Sanji made pancakes and Robin thanked the cook gracefully without even a first glance at the brooding swordsman. No, he decided. He didn't trust their newest crewmate.

The idiot cook, on the other hand, seemed to have completely forgotten that she had only very recently been willing and able (was maybe still able) to threaten the safety of their crew. Even the rest seemed taken with her; somehow she'd woven her spell around them all, the spell of an older, taller, mysterious, secretive woman who always seemed to know more than she shared. 

Everything about her got under Zoro's skin -- but it was perhaps the rest of the crew's reaction that did it the worst. The way that Nami swooned over her as much as Sanji did. How she was already earning Usopp's laughter with her stupid parlor tricks and how Chopper shrieked in awe and delight at her antics. But worst of all was Luffy. His complete and utter trust was unnerving. Everything that had taken place in the desert was forgiven and knowing Luffy, it probably was quite literally forgotten. Zoro wasn't so quick to forget.

In what was, admittedly, a noteworthy display of multitasking, Robin kept the easily-entertained busy while turning in her seat to cast dark eyes on Zoro. Crossing one leg over the other, she allowed a brief, inexplicable smile to grace her lips as she spoke. "I trust you slept well, Swordsman-san."

A sneer tugged at Zoro's lips before he decided he wouldn't allow her to get a reaction out of him. She was the worst kind of woman -- worse perhaps than Nami's incessant and noisy ability to make his life a living hell, this one would try to work her way under his skin, to annoy him in such a way that no one around would even notice. "Always sleep well," he muttered back at her in response before he stood to return his plate.

"Let me get that for you," Robin purred as a forearm sprouted from the edge of the table to claim Zoro's plate, a path of similar appendages appearing to carry the dish across the room and into Sanji's helpful hands. 

"Robin-chan is so gracious!" the cook cooed and set to washing after one more lingering gaze. 

Grace and showing off were entirely different things, Zoro mused as he spared the woman a glance before joining Sanji at the sink where he would be expected for drying. At least at that very moment, even the perverted cook's company was preferred to that knowing and dark gaze. Uproarious laughter carried across the galley as the new crew member tapped Luffy on the shoulder from across the room to Chopper and Usopp's hysterics.

"What crawled under your nose and died?" Sanji raised a pointed eyebrow in response to the expression that soured Zoro's face and sneered, speaking quietly enough for his words to be out of earshot of the girls. "I know it can't be my cooking that's turned your stomach."

Zoro snorted, but didn't bother taking a crack at the cook's breakfast. "Wasn't interested in waking up to a meeting of the idol fan club," he muttered back irritably.

Sanji managed to look startled for the briefest of moments. "Are you still stuck on that?" A dripping mug was thrust into Zoro's empty hands. "Get over it, asshole. Luffy trusts her."

Zoro snatched up a dishrag and tackled the mug with it. "I don't think Luffy even remembers any of last week," he grumbled.

It wasn't, Sanji decided, even worth arguing the point. Not in Robin's presence. And not when they both knew perfectly well that Zoro would do whatever Luffy goddamn said whether he liked the dark-haired woman or not. "It isn't very manly to be afraid of a lady," Sanji pointed out, the words mumbled under his breath, but still meant for Zoro to hear. 

"WHAT?"

The snarl brought silence to the room for a moment before they glanced over to see Zoro twisting Sanji's collar around his damp fist and shrugged it off. 

"Say that again, aho."

"Follow me outside and I'll say whatever you want, piss-for-brains," Sanji sneered, not even bothering to shrug free of Zoro's grip. Nami might be used to seeing the two engage in such hostile activities, but he wasn't yet sure their violent behavior wouldn't offend Robin. 

"Gladly," Zoro snapped with a shove at Sanji and a second snap of towel as he threw the rag down.

"Please don't break anything!" Usopp cried, an outstretched hand tracing the fighters' paths out the door. 

Nami scowled and shook her head. "They're such boys."

Robin gave her feminine chuckle as the door slammed shut, shortly followed by ugly words and uglier sounds. 

"Is this common?" she asked.

"Unfortunately," Nami groaned and pressed a manicured thumb and finger to the bridge of her nose. 

"All the time," Usopp added. 

"I don' mind," Luffy piped up in between bites of the breakfast that Sanji had left behind. 

The rest of the crew narrowed their eyes at him in disbelief while Robin sipped at the coffee that Sanji had kindly made her.

"It's very cute," she commented, sparing another chuckle as what sounded like a barrel being shattered was followed shortly by a string of expletives.

Nami raised an eyebrow and coughed lightly. "'Cute'. If by cute you mean 'obnoxious' then, sure. It's very cute."

Usopp looked a little green. 

Luffy commented around a cheekful of egg, "Ace said that too, once. 'Member?"

Robin cradled her cheek in a slender hand. "Such things happen on a ship. Boys get very frustrated. Cute."

"Frustrated?" Chopper repeated, looking up with glassy-eyed curiosity from where he sat beside Robin.

She smiled and patted him on the head. "But not as cute as Doctor-san."

Nami shuddered. "There are some images I'd rather not spoil this lovely breakfast with. No offense, Robin-san."

Chopper shifted his view to the navigator, clearly still confused. "You don't think they're hurting each other too badly?" he asked worriedly. 

"Zoro likes popping his stitches," Luffy commented merrily, adding a laugh while Chopper furrowed his brow unhappily. 

"Indeed," Robin replied, a raise of brow and she tapped a slender finger to her lips thoughtfully. "His own or Cook-san's?"

"Both," Chopper said wearily, letting his chin fall against the table. 

"They must keep you very busy, Doctor-san," Robin murmured in sympathy. "Though I'm sure it's nothing someone of your skill can't handle. Wouldn't you say, Long nose-san?"

Usopp squared his jaw severely and gave a nod. "Chopper's the best doctor that the Sea's Bravest Warrior could ask for."

"Shut up!" Chopper squealed, rolling around against the table. "I hate your compliments, stupid idiot jerks!"

Robin chuckled lightly as she stood, a stray hand popping from the brim of Chopper's hat to tap him playfully on the nose. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I have a book waiting. Shall I check on my way out to see whether our two fighters have put themselves in need of our good doctor's attention?" 

"I'm not treating them," Chopper pouted, squirming a little and obviously not meaning it. 

"Don't bother with them," Nami added with a wave of her hand, stirring her tea. 

"It would be funny if they fought in Nami's mikan trees again," Luffy laughed.

"NO IT WOULD NOT!" Nami roared at him, pounding a fist on the table.

"Well, perhaps it would be beneficial for me to remind them that such a location is ah... off limits to their more vigorous activities," Robin nodded her leave and exited the galley.

Zoro and Sanji had made it halfway across the ship and were out of Robin's path when she stepped on deck and sauntered to the table and umbrella. On the stairs, Zoro glared at Sanji, slumped against the railing and sporting a bloody lip and several new bruises. 

"A bloody lip is the least you deserve for speaking about a woman that way," Sanji sneered from where he slouched on the top stair as he tugged pointedly at the hem of his slacks.

"Huh?" Zoro stared, clueless, at Sanji for a moment before he remembered what had started the spat. At least Sanji was good for something. "Che. And that black eye's what you deserve for being such a dumb, gullible shit."

"Fuck you, at least I have some sense of chivalry," the cook spat and swiped a wrist across his mouth. 

"I do hope I'm not... ah, interrupting anything," Robin purred as she lifted her book from the table and flipped its pages to find her bookmark.

"Hn," Zoro grunted as the woman drew attention to herself before he slumped to his feet and crossed the deck to kick up the hatch and disappear below.

Robin chuckled softly and leveled her calm gaze at the remaining boy. "He is temperamental, isn't he."

"Please don't let him darken your mood, Robin-chan," Sanji bubbled, fluttering around the table with clasped hands, seemingly oblivious to his bruised eye and swollen lip. "Shall I fix you an iced tea?"

"That would be lovel--" Lashes fluttered when Sanji bolted for the galley and returned but a breath later, somehow completely composed with no traces of the scuffle.

With a rather loosely performed bow, Sanji set the glass down and hesitated, still standing, as though waiting for something. Before Robin could speak, however, he broke his own silence. "You really, mustn’t mind him. I haven't yet been able to impress upon him the importance of treating women with respect."

Robin offered him a kind glance and thanked him for the drink as long fingers curled around the stem of the glass. "Would you care to join me, cook-san?"

Sanji was sitting beside the archaeologist almost before the words had left her mouth. "You're far too gracious, Robin-chan," he cooed, hardly believing his luck.

Always calm, Robin lowered her eyes to gaze into her tea, the shade gracing her features as she crossed her legs. "I don't blame bushido-san for his wariness. But I'm sure I shall grow on him."

"If anyone can do it, I'm sure you will," Sanji replied, his smile no less sickeningly sweet, but at least his voice had returned to something resembling its natural octave. "If there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know," he added as he returned to his feet, tray clutched in both hands. 

"Thank you, cook-san," Robin replied, delicately opening her book. 

Sailing was smooth and they made good time from the sandy dunes of Alabasta, leaving the crew in good spirits through a pleasant afternoon. Except of course for Zoro who opted to sleep the day away and then take his frustration out on his weights after dinner. When he finished, everyone had gone to bed and after a shower, he could think of no better way to end the day than to raid Sanji's stocks. With a towel draped around his bare shoulders he toed the galley door open, ready to find a better mood the best way he knew how.

But even as he entered the room, his footsteps turned toward the wine rack, the galley door shut and latched with a dull thump-click. 

Every muscle tensed, on the ready as Zoro whirled and his glance darted furtively around the room. Swords were below deck. Broom in the corner, bottles behind, knives to the right.

A low, breathy chuckle reached his ears before he reached for a weapon, and Robin's voice slipped through the dark of the room. "I'm not sure Cook-san would appreciate your intentions, Swordsman-san," she purred.

Zoro's eyes narrowed in the darkness, his body only tensing more, listening raptly to the breath and the voice. Very close. He hadn't expected her to turn on them this quickly. "Devil woman," he growled. "Act fast, don't you?"

Robin raised a brow that Zoro couldn't see in the dark, then uncrossed her legs with another light laugh. "Then you know my intentions, do you?" 

The swordsman snorted. "I don't know what Luffy was thinking..." he muttered. He felt behind him, hand closing on the neck of a bottle on Sanji's wine rack.

"Oh, Swordsman-san. Our captain knows that no harm will come to any of his family. Do you distrust me so much? That your feelings extend to Captain-san as well?"

Zoro hesitated just the slightest, fingers curled around cold glass. He wanted to believe that Luffy's judge of character was infallible. But he wasn't quite convinced yet. And this wasn't helping her case. "What's this sneaky bullshit?" he demanded flatly.

"If I recall," Robin pointed out, still making no move to stand or leave her place at the galley's table. "It was you who entered this room with the motive of 'sneaking'. Or am I wrong, Swordsman-san?" Before Zoro had a chance to even flinch, a deft hand had twisted the wine bottle from his grasp and replaced it in the rack. 

Zoro bristled indignantly as his fingers swiped for the stolen bottle. "It's not sneaking," he snapped irritably. "I deserve it as much as anyone. What're you doing in here anyway? Nami get sick of you already and kick you out?"

"Navigator-san is sleeping," was all she would say, though Zoro's hand only met the warm touch of Robin's fingers when he tried to reclaim the wine. Her touch didn't pull away then, instead crept up the inside of his wrist, feather-light touches. "I came in here in search of the privacy of solitude, Swordsman-san. And you have interrupted that."

"What idiot looks for privacy and solitude on a pirate ship?" Zoro snapped, jerking his hand away from that touch, unsettled by it.

"Ah then surely you won't mind my company," Robin smiled, trapping Zoro with his own words. "Why don't you sit down with me." A gentle nudge at the back of Zoro's neck served as a subtle encouragement. 

For a moment, Zoro was sorely tempted to stomp out of the room, be done with the woman. But somehow it felt at that moment like it would be giving in to her, letting her win. He had as much right to the galley and wouldn't be displaced. "I'll stand, thanks," he muttered, going for the wine rack again with less violent intent.

Before he could reach for the coveted alcohol, another hand appeared and removed it, passing it from the rack to the table where Robin claimed it and pulled free the cork. "A good scent," she decided as another coaxing hand ran a finger through Zoro's earrings. "You look like you could use a sip or two, Swordsman-san."

Zoro was thankful for the darkness when an embarrassing shiver ran up his back as gold tinkled lightly in his ear. His vision had adjusted somewhat but he felt confident that Robin couldn't see the annoying heat that came briefly to his cheeks. It was only for the booze that he gave in and sat across the table from the older woman, holding out his hand.

"Why don't you trust me?" She asked before somehow managing to still look graceful while taking a sip directly from the bottle. There was no concern in her question, only curiosity. She passed the wine.

The swordsman eyed her suspiciously through the darkness, surprised that the delicate woman would drink from the bottle. He wasn't sure it changed his opinion of her but it didn't keep him from taking a long swig when the bottle was returned to his hand. "Why *should* I trust you?" he challenged quietly.

"You shouldn't," was her reply, deep and throaty as another swallow was taken and another hand appeared, this time from under the table to squeeze firmly at Zoro's thigh.

It was a damn good thing the bottle hadn't been in his hand at that moment for it would have resulted in near-death choking and a lot of broken glass. Instead there was only the great clatter as Zoro scrambled to his feet and knocked over the bench in the process. "W-what the hell!?" he demanded, his voice a scathing hiss, uncharacteristically off-balanced. "What the fuck are you trying to pull!?"

"Tsk," Robin scolded. "Do you really want everyone to come running?" She didn't bother standing, but wasted no time in pinning Zoro's arms behind his back and clamping another palm down over his mouth in warning. "Consider this a favor, Swordsman-san. With the way you keep your tensions so tightly bottled up, it's really quite a wonder that Cook-san hasn't come out of your little... fights with more than just bruises."

Zoro's eyes widened, his head jerking in an attempt to free his mouth. The cursed woman's extra arms were stronger than they had any right to be. Tensions?!

"If you'll be quiet, I'll remove my hand from your mouth," was Robin's promise, even as another trio of hand fluttered up the inside of Zoro's leg. "Tsk, so much tension."

Zoro growled low into Robin's hand, hands flexing in her grip, muscles twitching with her light touches. He seethed at how he felt color blossom on his face as Robin's fingers slid cautiously away. "A favor?" he hissed angrily.

"If you insist," was her reply, the only prior warning Zoro received before her hands were slipping under his haramaki, deftly pulling free the drawstrings of his pants, pulling them down.

For a moment Zoro didn't move, frozen, wide-eyed and exposed before there was a breath and Robin's hand clamped over the boy's mouth to keep him quiet as an outraged shout made its way to his lips. It wasn't just color now it was HEAT flooding through his face -- what the HELL did she think this was?! Revenge, trying to humiliate him for not accepting her into the crew?

"Oh dear, just think how upset Cook-san would be..." She stood now, circled the table, stepped up to Zoro, backed him to the wall where a whole new set of arms sprouted and pinned him. Still she didn't touch him, only lifted herself onto the nearby counter and watched as her disembodied hands went to work. "I think perhaps he wouldn't approve of me... mmm... 'fighting' with you. No, that's his place, isn't it?" The haramaki was pushed higher, rumpled around his waist as a finger traced a trail that began at Zoro's navel. "If you'll have patience with me, I'm sure I'll learn my own place soon enough." 

A sharp breath was sucked in as Robin's fingers again slid away, brushing across Zoro's lips lightly. He wasn't sure what he was horrified by more -- what she was doing or what she was suggesting. For being normally fairly steely and unflappable, Zoro found himself shaken and stumbling for words as he strained against the army of limbs that held him against the wall and caressed his skin. "What kind of trick --" He cut himself off, skin of his abdomen shivering under her light touches and making him curse his body. This was... unusual to say the least. And in spite of all his training and practiced self-control, a nineteen year old boy was a nineteen year old boy.

"No trick," Robin assured the boy. Ah, and he was just a boy after all. Easy to forget that under all that passion and determination and... muscle, there was still a teenager. And for all his adventures so far, it was more than clear that Nico Robin was by far the more worldly of the two. "A boy such as yourself has needs. Yes, even I know that. I shouldn't wonder that you try so hard to hide them under steel and blood and training. It isn't weakness, Roronoa. I assure you." Her touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't exactly gentle either as her fingers sought out the heated flesh between Zoro's quaking thighs. Still, the figure seated feet away hardly moved but to speak and to tuck a stray lock of hair behind one ear. 

Zoro managed to turn his gasp into a shuddering breath, his stomach lurching as slender fingers curled around the flesh that was, in his opinion, far too fast to react. Before had only mistrusted, perhaps resented her but in that moment he hated her -- every feminine bone in her body and the extra ones too. Zoro fought to keep his breath under control as blood rushed to fill Robin's grip, embarrassing him, paralyzing him far more than the arms that held him to the wall. "C-conniving..." he hissed.

"Mmm... well, maybe I am. A bit," she admitted, a thumb grazing the head of Zoro's cock. Not quite cruel. But perhaps a little conniving. 

Though he heaved with tense, nervous breath, his glare pierced her through the darkness, trying to focus on that anger, fixed on the slender silhouette that perched nearby. Trying to ignore what was happening below his waist and failing miserably. "What do you want out of this?" he growled at her, not understanding her at all but to now know she was remarkably perverse.

"Curiosity," she finally spoke after a rather long moment of contemplation. "Try to relax, Swordsman-san. You don't have to like the other person to get something out of the sex after all. Surely you'd understand that." 

"What's that supposed to mean?!" the boy seethed.

"Now now, don't you think it'd spoil my 'mysterious aura' if I were to tell you everything you want to know?" Two hands now stroked him, another slid under his shirt to thumb a nipple to hardness and yet another reached around to dig manicured nails into the tight muscles of his ass, only just hard enough to leave marks that might last for a breath or two. 

Zoro's head reeled, the onslaught of unexpected sensation overwhelming him. He panted quietly, aching in Robin's grip but hardly in any state where he could yet enjoy it. This didn't prevent his hips from arching of their own accord into her grip, Zoro's eyes squeezing shut briefly as though to take him up from this. It was too much at one time, too many hands and he didn't even hear Robin's cryptic response as his stomach jumped wildly.

"Not quite the same as by yourself, is it?" she murmured, slipping from the counter to stand before him, smiling as she reached forward with her own hand, one finger extended to trace the line of Zoro's jaw, thumb brushing across his dry lips, lifting away before she could touch the split that Sanji had given him earlier that day. Instead she leaned in close, until he could feel her breath on his face. It wasn't a kiss so much as a taste, and Robin drew back with a calm grin. "I can taste him here."

Zoro's lip curled though the arousal he was fighting was starting to show even in his eyes and flushed features. "What?" he breathed, working as much anger into the word as he could manage, but mostly confused by the implication. He almost wanted her to come closer, as much as he loathed the thought, hated her looming over him. Hated that she was so much taller than him.

"Never mind," she hummed, leaning down to kiss him again, this time biting down just enough to taste the tang of a wound reopened. How delightful it was, the strong warrior unable to fight back.

Completely in spite of himself, a groan was murmured against Robin's lips. Though gentle hands cradled his head, he didn't jerk or pull away, tongue poking just the faintest against the wound and brushing Robin's lightly. It was a thrill that made him hate her even more and that made him throb torturously in her grip. Out of his control, his hips arched in search of friction.

The time for teasing seemed to be fading, and no chiding words were offered along with the hands that circled more firmly around his arousal. Robin's own hands engaged in far more chaste activities, the faint caress of throat, the tug of earrings. She allowed the boy to deepen their kiss, sighing in pleasure at his immanent --indeed, already begun-- surrender. 

Zoro warred with himself, revulsed and relishing the tongue that traced along the inside of his lip. He reached for it with no small amount of shame within, though he growled with frustration when his hips were held in place, denying him any control. Frustration -- frustration and confusion all over and pleasure coursing through him from Robin's expert touch, stroking him, squeezing him. Muscles shivered with emotional, mental and physical strain, tight, wanting, hating.... "Damn you...." he breathed

"Shh..." Robin whispered, never pausing in her attentions. "Don't hold back." She was close enough to feel now, the heat of her body reaching him, even past the arms that bound him to the wall. She kissed him once more, taking his tongue between her teeth with a sigh before releasing him to seek the submission behind the anger in his eyes. 

Sweat sheened the younger boy's skin, beaded on his brow. His body ached for something else, to reach out or to press against, anything with his own control. Panting, he strained again against Robin's hold only to shudder as her skilled fingers brought him dangerously close. Another groan pushed its way from his throat, brow excruciatingly tight even as she caught his gaze again. There was confusion, desperation, need, fury, all burning there but no quiet submission. Even as he struggled with everything in him, he stared into Robin's eyes, unafraid if overcome and not understanding.

Ah well. Desperation was nearly as good. And Robin was determined now to wring every last bit of it from Zoro's wavering confidence. She stepped to the side now, leaning beside him, her chin resting almost casually on his shoulder as her eyes burned down the length of his torso. And she watched. She did of course, but now she mostly watched. And quietly thrilled with every quiver her hands drew from Zoro's skin. "Close?" she queried, though somehow Zoro knew it wasn't really a question. 

An angry sound made its way from Zoro's throat at the word, her mocking him even as he dripped over her delicate fingers. It was only his own tension and turmoil that had kept him going this long. And now with her calm, long-lashed eyes cast down his body, roving over his pleasure and shame, he choked back his voice and trembled as he came in her grip. His back and shoulders shuddered heavily, throat bobbing as she squeezed and stroked him expertly through his climax, a furious curse bitten into his lip.

"Good," she cooed, her lips on his ear, breath stirring his earrings, her hands not yet leaving him until he shuddered and sagged in her hold. Without a second thought, she wiped her fingers on his thigh, and left a chaste kiss on his jaw. "You may have the rest of the wine, Swordsman-san. I promise not to tell our cook." 

It wasn't until she was out the door that the last of her arms vanished, leaving Zoro quite suddenly alone. 

The faintest hum was in the woman's throat as she stepped onto the deck and strolled around the galley to the steps. She smiled her mysterious smile at Sanji's back as he retreated up those steps and called out quietly, "Lovely evening, isn't it, Cook-san?"

It was only when Robin spoke to him and he whirled around, startled, open-mouthed, that he realized he'd lost his cigarette. That it lay smoldering on the deck, just between Robin's feet where he'd dropped it moments ago. "Y-yes," Sanji stumbled on his response, rummaging in his pockets for another cigarette, a match. "Very."

A hand gracefully picked up Sanji's cigarette and passed it along up the stairs to gently place it between Sanji's lips as Robin was turning away. "Good night, Cook-san."

Sanji could only watch as their archaeologist licked at the inside of her thumb while she walked away and his cigarette fell to the deck a second time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I forgot to repost the rest of this fic. Keep in mind it was written ELEVEN YEARS AGO in 2006.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I forgot to repost the rest of this fic. Keep in mind it was wr

The following morning, Zoro skipped breakfast, feigning sleep when the rest of the crew started to wake. He wasn't ready to admit to himself what had happened the night before, let alone look that woman in the eyes in the morning. He opted instead for a long shower as his shipmates enjoyed Sanji's cooking.

Every bit of annoyance that the young man had experienced the day before was now increased ten fold. Not only was she a sneaky, mistrustful woman but she was a pervert, had it out for him.... and had managed to completely ply him into her intentions. He should have been able to stop himself, should have been able to stop her... instead he let her kiss him, let her do... that...

Zoro scrubbed furiously at his short hair, eyes tightly shut with anger. He couldn't stop playing it over and over, his stomach twisting a little more each time. He should have snapped all of those arms, should have taken her down. Then he could have showed Luffy that she really was untrustworthy, that she had accosted him in the galley. It should have been a fight, a victory. It had been an opportunity to expose her. Instead it was hands all over him, her tongue so confident as it slid between his lips, completely unafraid of him.

The bushido had thought there wasn't someone he couldn't stand as much as he couldn't stand Sanji. But as his own rough hand crept reluctantly down his wet stomach, he began to think otherwise.

Sanji wasn't eating that morning either, favoring instead to consume cigarette smoke as though it were edible, as though it was downright nourishing. He didn't often smoke in the galley, particularly when the ladies were at breakfast, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to remove the smoldering stick from his lips, even as he lovingly served the meal. 

Zoro's absence was significant, but he did his best to ignore it. Avoiding Robin's gaze was harder. 

Robin offered Sanji as warm a smile as she had in her as he set a plate of crepes and fruit before her. "Thank you, Cook-san."

"Anything for my precious porcelain flower," Sanji cooed, bowed, and tried not to let his lip tremble. How could he? How could that asshole have touched her? And what was so wrong with Sanji that she'd allow it to happen with that grungy brute? 

"Ne, Sanji," Luffy piped up as he shoved four strawberries in his mouth. "Zoro's gone."

"Then he forfeits his breakfast," Sanji growled. "No use wasting food the jackass isn't here to eat."

Chopper looked decidedly nervous. Luffy looked hopeful.

"Serves him right," Nami commented lazily from behind her paper. "He's still pouting like a baby."

"How come?" Chopper asked worriedly.

"Oh!" Usopp piped up. "It must be because our fearsome midnight battle! Why he was practically on his knees, begging for the great Captain Usopp to grant him mercy--" 

Sanji nearly choked on his cigarette. 

"All right, Cook-san?" A concerned brush of hand touched Sanji's wrist but a glance revealed more amusement than worry on the woman's features.

"CAN I HAVE HIS BREAKFAST?" Luffy finally blurted after too many interruptions straying from the important subject at hand.

"Whatever," Sanji wheezed once he'd regained some control of his breath. Then turning back to Robin, he nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach the eyes he avoided settling higher than her mouth. "I'm quite all right, but you're more than an angel for your worry." 

"Maybe I should check on Zoro..." Chopper worried, poking at his breakfast. "Maybe he's sick..."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Doctor-san," Robin gave a little shake of her head. 

Nami scowled. "He's going to use all the hot water at this rate..." 

"Maybe he's fighting bath monsters," Luffy put in at Zoro's defense around a huge mouthful.

"Very fearsome, bath monsters... and prolific. I slay at least fifteen last week."

"IN OUR BATH?! UWAAAH!"

Their idiocy was quickly silenced by three swift punches to the head, courtesy of the resident navigator. 

"Owwwww," Luffy whined. "What was that for?"

"Being an idiot in a no-idioting zone," Nami snapped at him, giving him an extra thwap with her newspaper for good measure.

Robin stifled a quiet giggle behind some slender fingers before she offered her leftovers to Luffy who immediately forgot about Nami's abuse. The archeologist then quietly excused herself and made her way to the deck.

Sanji lingered only long enough to be sure that Nami's needs were taken care of and that Luffy wouldn't be eating them out of ship and home. Then, balancing a cup of tea delicately on a matching saucer, the cook exited the galley in search of his beautiful raven-haired goddess and source of his recent heartache.

"I would never have thought I'd be treated so well on a pirate ship," Robin commented, smiling softly with eyes on her book as Sanji brought her tea. 

"Not all pirates are the brutish, dirty villains of rumor," Sanji assured the older woman as he set the cup beside her. "And there are even some who understand how a lady should be treated."

"I am lucky to have found one of the few ships with a gentleman aboard," she agreed, not taking the boy for granted and offering him a soft nod of her head as she lifted the porcelain to her lips. "Did you not sleep well, Cook-san?" she inquired, eyes turning back to her pages.

"You are sweet to be concerned for me--" Sanji began, hesitated. "I only worry..." How could he possibly say what needed to be said? That he was concerned for her and this... activity with --his stomach turned-- the swordsman. It couldn't possibly be a good thing. There was no way to say any of his thought aloud without sounding terribly jealous and spiteful. Which he was. But his Robin-chan could never know that. "N-nothing. Really, I'm quite all right. I was merely... restless last night."

It was at that moment that Zoro decided to appear on deck, sparing an ugly glance at the two of them from across the ship before he retreated to the galley.

A stray hand gave a light, reassuring stroke to Sanji's jaw, Robin seeming not to notice the brooding swordsman. "Thank you for the tea, Cook-san."

"Y-you're most perfectly welcome, of course, Robin-chan," Sanji murmured, his cheeks pinking only a little as he floated away on the power of her touch, seeming to have forgotten what he'd come to her to speak about in the first place.

When the fingers had melted away, Robin seemed to have deemed the conversation over, enthralled as she was in her reading.

There was a long moment of serious thought as Sanji stood outside the galley door, debating whether it was worth facing the green-haired idiot. With a restrained sigh, however, he entered, smiling pleasantly as he could. It wouldn't do, after all, for Chopper to start asking awkward questions were he to display a face that looked as though his stomach had soured. Even if that's what it felt like. Chopper would notice. And that just wouldn't do. Besides, it was easy enough to avoid acknowledging the swordsman's presence.

The said swordsman was raiding Sanji's ingredients for the day, a piece of bread in one hand and an apple in the other, as though he hadn't just passed Sanji on the deck. 

"I don't recall giving you permission to eat," Sanji seethed quietly, loathe to disturb their navigator's peace. 

For a moment, Zoro paused, looking at Sanji, expressionless as though he might not even react. Then a bristle ran hard through his body, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Permission?" he growled low. 

"You didn't show up for breakfast. That doesn't earn you a free pass to raid my kitchen, jackass," Sanji forced himself to meet Zoro's eyes.

"Stingy love-cook," Zoro sneered, then glanced at the roll in his hand which had a bite taken out of it. He then snorted and looked Sanji straight in the eyes as he squared his shoulders. "Fine." With this, Zoro tossed the roll out the nearest open port hole.

Sanji didn't even pause to consider his course of action. His foot was off the ground, in the air, and slamming into the side of Zoro's neck almost before the swordsman had time to smirk. 

The blow was earnest – exactly what Zoro was looking for, though rather more passionate than he’d been expecting. He hit the deck and was instantly sprinting back to his feet, plowing into Sanji full force.

Chopper and Luffy were the only ones left in the galley, both of them pounding on the table with rage.

”Stop it!” Chopper shouted in his squeaky voice. “I just fixed you!”

“ZORO! YOU THREW AWAY FOOD!”

"Please, stop it!"

"NEXT TIME GIVE IT TO ME!"

Their protests fell on deaf ears, however, neither the swordsman nor the cook hearing anything but their own rushing blood and the thump of limb hitting limb. A fist pummeled into the side of Sanji's jaw, the cook responding with a hard rubber heal to Zoro's already throbbing temple. The cook's hands were out and fisted for this fight, not hidden away in the safety of his pockets. And though he didn't fight with them, their presence seemed significant.

"Useless ero-cook," Zoro growled into Sanji's face as he pinned him against the wall, an elbow digging into Sanji's shoulder. He snarled as he took a nasty kick to the shin and then pots clattered to the floor, accented by a few shattering plates as Zoro threw him across the counter. He narrowly ducked as a frying pan was kicked at him, hitting the wall loudly. 

Luffy's enragement over the food receded, frowning as Chopper wailed. "Oi, Zoro, Sanji!" he protested. This kind of fighting wasn't funny.

The sound of ripping fabric preceded Sanji's back hitting the floor and a button or two dropped at his feet when he swung upward again, lashing out with both feet as his hands found purchase on the wood. Zoro ducked in time to escape one flying foot, but the other clipped him in the chin, only his quick reflexes narrowly avoiding certain tracheal damage. He was already reaching for the cook when their captain spoke again.

"Stop fighting," Luffy scowled, all playfulness absent from his voice as he bent to pick up the now-dented skillet. "You guys. Stop it. STOP NOW." 

A kick was blocked away with a sting that promised a nasty bruise on Zoro's arm which then delivered a malicious punch to Sanji's stomach. Blood flowed from Zoro's resplit lip, his cheek was already swelling from a blow across his face. A kick to his chest pushed him back a step but he caught the downward sweeping heel over his head. A wide swing of strong arms threw Sanji across the deck.

"ZORO! SANJI!" Chopper howled, standing on the table now. 

Sanji's backward fall was stopped by the snap of rubber wrapping around his abused torso, another arm flinging outward to likewise halt Zoro's momentum. 

"STOP FIGHTING NOW." 

"Luffy!" Zoro snarled angrily, only raging further when Chopper's strong arms closed around his shoulders. "Keep out of it!"

"No!" Chopper cried, almost in tears. Luffy didn't say anything, but he didn't loosen his grip either. Sanji growled, but didn't fight back, only waited, still glaring murderously across the room where Zoro still thrashed. 

"Get off..." Zoro growled. "Off!" He shoved off Chopper's grip and yanked Luffy's arm from around his waist. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leveled his gaze at Sanji for a moment before making his way for the door. He kicked a pot out of his way, broken dishes crunching under his feet. The door slammed shut behind him.

Chopper shrank from his tall form, running to Sanji where Luffy had set him down. "Sanji..."

"I'm fine," the cook scowled, reaching up to smooth his ruffled hair, then straightening his suit with a tug. He seemed intent on ignoring his bruised face and bloody nose. 

"Please let me check..." Chopper whimpered.

Luffy's gaze penetrated him. The boy that had been begging and howling for Zoro's breakfast was replaced with their captain, unhappy and stern when nakama weren't nakama.

"I said I'm -fine-," Sanji snapped, perhaps a bit more harshly than he might otherwise have been, yet he found he could not meet Luffy's eyes. "Go check on the green-haired asshole instead."

Chopper stood for a long moment, his lip trembling and then he glanced at Luffy who met his gaze. He ran to fetch his bag before hurrying out the door to try to find Zoro.

Luffy walked around the table and started picking up pots silently.

"I can do that," Sanji groused quietly, bending to shoo Luffy's hand away from shards of broken ceramic. 

Luffy frowned slightly and pulled himself to sit on the counter, taking silverware from Sanji as he picked it out of the wreckage. "Sanji," Luffy turned a bent spoon over in his hand. "Do you hate Zoro?"

"What?" Sanji glanced up quickly, then just as quickly was back to his task. "...No, dumbass. We were just fighting." Still, he'd hesitated. There were times when he felt that he might severely despise the swordsman... today had been one of them. But... did he really -hate- Zoro? 

"You were fighting bad," Luffy frowned, as articulate as ever.

"It's not..." How could he explain something like this to Luffy? There didn't exist the right words. "Look, you don't... need to worry," he finished, rather lamely.

Luffy looked at him for another long moment, the intensity in his gaze something not often seen. Then his mouth set and he nodded firmly. "Okay." His smiled his wide smile at Sanji, a hum between his teeth. Trust. "Chopper will be mad if you broke anything on Zoro."

"Yeah," Sanji agreed, stooping to pick up the last of the kitchen shrapnel. "But he'll fix him anyway."

"Because he's the best doctor," Luffy agreed, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You need a new shirt."

Sanji glance down at his front, the torn sleeve, the missing buttons. "Yeah, I guess I do." A pause. "Don't you have a pressing appointment with the figure head?" he asked, hint of a smile stretching his bruised mouth.

"Yes," Luffy agreed with a serious nod but then he got distracted when his eyes fell on the bowl of apples on the table, his mouth suddenly watering.

"Take an apple with you, rubber idiot," Sanji scolded, almost hiding the affection in his voice. 

"Woohoo!" Luffy cheered as he flounced off of the counter, sandals hitting the deck solidly. From across the room he snatched a piece of fruit as he made for the door. "You're the best, Sanji!"

How had he managed to end up on a crew with so many infallible idiots? The cook could only shake his head, failing to hide his smile until it was interrupted by the end of a cigarette.

It was with no small amount of arguing that Zoro had been mended. There was no reason for it and Chopper was wasting his time. But in the end, Zoro had great difficulty in denying their doctor and had ended up with a great many more bandages than he really needed. This was only made more frustrating when Sanji appeared again sporting his battle marks with no mending. His tie was straight and his shirt unripped when he returned to the deck to tend to Nami and Robin. Only glares were exchanged the rest of the day, rather than blows or words.

Zoro stole into the kitchen when Sanji was on watch and slept on the deck through dinner.

Once the deck was quiet again, and the rest of the crew turned in for the night, Robin slinked out into the night air, a flimsy robe drawn loose around her shoulders. A quick peek told her that the swordsman was on watch, but she made no move to ascend the rigging, instead stepping to the railing and looking out to the star lit horizon.

The sound of quiet, light footsteps was an alert to Zoro's ears, his gaze darting across the deck until it fell on the raven haired woman. His lip curled slightly, eyes staying there, suspicious.

Robin laughed quietly. "So suspicious, Swordsman-san," she spoke, her disembodied voice drifting past Zoro's ear.

"Do you blame me?" Zoro growled, knowing Robin would hear it. "Devil woman..."

"I am merely out enjoying the night air, Swordsman-san...." Robin chided, her eyes never leaving the ocean. "Unless, perhaps, you were hoping for something more?" she teased him, no true seduction in her words.

"Che," Zoro spat. He shouldn't have responded to her at all.

"Why don't you come down here?" Robin coaxed, an impossible breath sliding hot across the metal of Zoro's earrings. 

"Like hell I will," Zoro muttered, waving behind his ear as though shooing an insect. 

"I'm afraid I don't feel much like climbing," Robin clicked her tongue, a shake of her head and a small wry smile were Zoro's only warnings before a wave of hands were sprouting from the crow's nest, scooping the swordsman up like a baby and tossing him to the deck, only to be caught in a net of yet more appendages, then set safely on his feet. "Thank you," she purred.

Zoro was wide-eyed and it took a hitched breath before he was really steady on his feet as he stared at Robin. "That.... that was wrong," he breathed.

"Yet effective," she winked. 

The swordsman's back stiffened a little and he stalked away from her to sit on the steps beside the galley. His gaze was even as he glared at her, unspeaking. Nothing he could say would lead anywhere he wanted to go, he was sure.

"Still licking your wounds?" Robin asked, turning from the sea to lean into the railing. "Cook-san didn't hide from us."

"I wasn't hiding," Zoro snapped. "I fell asleep. I don't care what you see."

"Then show me." Her words were a challenge, the look in her eyes doubly so. "Show me Cook-san's marks." A single arm grew from the step beside Zoro, arching up to finger a ripe-looking bruise at the swordsman's throat.

"Didn't get enough?" Zoro growled quietly, swatting at the offending appendage.

"Did you?" Robin replied without a blink, then added before Zoro could speak. "Before Captain-san stopped you, that is."

The swordsman gave a brief pause and then snorted. "No," he replied with sardonicism. "Not even any broken limbs."

The long moment of silence that followed this announcement was broken by a quiet, but genuine burst of laughter. "'Such boys', indeed," she murmured, almost to herself. "I'm sure Cook-san feels the same," she added.

"I don't give a damn how he feels," Zoro muttered with annoyance. "He couldn't hope to do any real damage anyway."

"Perhaps, but you still feel it, don't you?" A slither of dextrous hand and two fingers were prodding, none too gently, at a particular point in the swordsman's ribcage.

A wheez made it easily past Zoro's stoic defenses, a grimace shifting across his features as he again shoved a new hand away. "Knock it off."

"I can't help but wonder why exactly you strive so hard to leave lasting damage to our cook. Is it that you hate him so much?" A hand touched Zoro's knee, another turned down the hem of his sleeve. "Or are you afraid that he'll forget without the reminder of scars?"

"He deserves whatever pain lingers," Zoro replied coldly. "Maybe it'll keep him from being such a cocky asshole." He knew what today had really been about. It was only that Sanji was as eager as he for a fight and had let it escalate, perhaps too far.

"Maybe," Robin agreed, that same strange, knowing smile never quite leaving her lips. "But he wouldn't be as much fun for you then, would he?"

"Fun isn't the right word," Zoro grumbled.

"Isn't it?"

Zoro narrowed his eyes at her. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Hm, no." Robin lowered her eyes for a brief moment before returning them to Zoro's firm jaw. "I don't suppose I could." A pause. "I can't promise not to try, however..."

Zoro was silent for a moment, the wary suspicion that was always there for the woman heavy in his gaze. She probably considered it some scientific duty or pastime -- what in actuality was nosiness and perversion, to her was intrigue and curiosity. He liked her less and less.

"I think, perhaps, that you are a man with more intelligence than he is given credit for," Robin mused, a nail scraping lightly across one of those bruises left by their cook, "yet a remarkable capacity for self-delusion."

"I don't give a damn who gives me credit," Zoro muttered in reply, trying not to let his damaged skin shiver. But the second half of her comment made him bristle a little, made his own curiosity stir in such a way that he responded where normally he would have ignored her. "What self-delusion?" he said demandingly, if quietly.

Instead of an answer, Robin posed another question. "Why do you only fight with cook-san?"

"I don't only fight with that idiot," he responded, baffled at how stupid she was. "I fight anyone that challenges me and can put up a decent fight."

"Would you fight with me, then?" 

Zoro hesitated, eyeing her, brow knit into a puzzled frown. "If... If Luffy told me," was all he could think to say. He didn't care to admit that Robin was as strong as she was, that she was formidable. And besides, as long as she was considered a nakama among the crew he couldn't fight her without causing unrest.

"Ah," Robin nodded. "But you choose to fight Cook-san. Even when Captain-san says no."

A growl of annoyance made it between Zoro's teeth. "I choose to fight him because he's an idiot and he pisses me off. Usually Luffy thinks it's funny."

"Usually," Robin nodded, a silent 'ah' of understanding shaping her mouth. "Still, I can't help wondering what it is that our dear Cook-san has that I do not..." A sort of resigned sigh escaped Robin's lips; the teasing in her tone did not escape Zoro's notice. 

Zoro glared at her in full then, extremely annoyed at the position she put him in. He couldn't deny her without praising the cook and without praising the cook, he suggested that Robin had something worth attention. 

All of which Robin was entirely aware, as she made no move to hide the smile that mocked Zoro's consternation. "I suppose it has been my own mistake," she finally spoke after the long quiet stretching between them had brought a quirk to Zoro's furrowed brow, "to believe that my attentions could begin to duplicate your Cook-san's."

The swordsman absolutely hated the fact that the woman could summon a flush to his face without even touching him -- simply with suggestion. His scowl only deepened though, even as color found its way across his skin. "You should pay more 'attention' to that asshole," he muttered. "You may be more perverted than him."

"I've been considering it," Robin admitted, bringing a delicate finger to her lips in contemplation. "Of course, if it was something that particularly bothered you..."

There was the briefest, almost indescernable pause. Zoro snorted.

"Was that a yes or a no?" Robin pried, quiet laughter in her voice. 

"I don't give a damn what either of you do, woman," he said with disgust and stood. "I'm on watch."

"Very well, Swordsman-san. I shall leave you to your duties." She made no move the leave her place at the railing, but did find his face before he turned away. "Thank you. I've quite enjoyed our talk."

Zoro felt no need nor desire to return the remark. He gripped wadou's hilt as he reached for the rigging and loathed the tiny inkling of hesitation that trickled through him. Quickly shaking it off, he hoisted himself and made his way to the crows nest. It took a great amount of self control not to send another glance the woman's way until she left.


	3. Chapter 3

Petty outbreaks did not go unnoticed by Robin's wise eye. A well-placed toe that sent the swordsman tripping, dishwater sloshed across his haramaki after dinner. Complaints about inadequate flavor of their meals, 'accidentally' thrown away tobacco. The cook seeking vengeance, the swordsman seeking an outlet of frustration. It hadn't been but a few days and they both sported the marks of a great many angry spats. 

Nami complained about them constantly and Chopper berated them time and again so the newest member of the crew could only assume that this was at least a slight change in behavior. 

She smiled to herself with each strike of boot against steel and with each cloying smile offered to her by their dearest cook

 

Sanji slipped lower in the water, til the warmth just covered his mouth. A trail of tiny bubbles spilled upward as he sighed. It wasn't that Robin was treating him any differently. If anything, really, she'd been more attentive than usual, offering an extra smile here, a lingering of fingers as she accepted his tea. Still, those little things were far outweighed by the observations Sanji made when Zoro and Robin were in the same proximity. The looks she gave him, the fleeting smiles, the long-lashed winks, the way Zoro colored every time she spoke to him or touched him. 

Another sigh escaped his wet lips as he did his very best not to think about it. Which of course only brought it even more forward in his mind. 

The quiet drip of water was the only thing that interrupted the cook's deep thought -- until a heavy click was brought to his attention across the room and the door creaked open. The object of his recent affection blinked slowly at him, clad only in a towel that left very little to the imagination. "Oops... forgive me, Cook-san."

Sanji gaped, cheeks darkening as he stared, a quiet cheep caught in his throat. "No, no! It- it's fine! I-- I'll be out in just a moment."

"Mm," Robin replied as she made no move to close the door, even taking a step in as she glanced around the room slowly. "It's such a cold evening. And so nice and warm in here. Do you mind if I join you?"

"What?" Sanji squeaked, eyes torn between staring at the towel-clad woman before him and the door that still stood open. "I mean please-- ah, please close the door?"

"Of course." The door creaked softly under her light hand and clicked shut. Her bare feet padded slowly across the tile until she was standing in front of the bath where she gave one long glance along Sanji's body. She then perched on the end of the tub near his head and let her fingers dip into the water. "Mmm... you like it as hot as myself."

"Ah, ah, yes," Sanji stuttered, reluctant to blink. "Nothing like a hot... ah bath." He shifted in the water, drawing his knees together self-consciously as the ripples from her hand slipped across the water's surface to touch his shoulders, the sensation curiously like fingers.

"It's good that you are taking care of yourself," the woman commented, her fingers moving along the water for a real finger to in fact brush Sanji's shoulder. "You've been so tense lately."

"Yes well, it-- it's very lovely of you to ask after my health," Sanji mumbled, shivering a little as her fingernails brushed his skin. "I'm really... fine," he hastened to reassure her, his eyes following the line of her arm as far as the curve of her neck and no farther.

"I do hope I'm not too much the source of your tension," she continued, letting her hand slip away to lean against the tile wall. A moment later the water moved behind Sanji as a new set of hands appeared to knead slowly and lightly at his shoulders. "I would hate to cause unrest within my new home. After Sencho-san has been so kind to place his faith in me."

"Ah.... no, no," Sanji tensed at the first touch, but as Robin's fingers began to work at his knotted flesh, he relaxed, almost against his own will. "Luffy has, of course, every confidence in you. A- as do I." Though his muscles were already melting under Robin's skill, the creep of flush was already spreading down his neck, prickling his chest. The cook squeezed his thighs together more tightly, his hands slipping under the water, doing his best to hide what he already knew would be impossible to avoid. "Ungh... good, Robin-chan. Feels good..."

Robin gave a quiet chuckle in acknowledgement, her fingers continuing to rub slowly at the cook's neck and shoulders though she did not even bother to look at him, her eyes peacefully shut. "I'm surprised you have said nothing of what you saw the other day, Cook-san. I'm impressed with your self control."

Sanji managed to avoid choking this time, though perhaps it was only because he'd already set aside his cigarette. Still he found it difficult for a long moment to find his voice. "I-- I... but Robin-chan, it was not at all my place. To- to speak of." 

"So polite," Robin smiled. "Well. Now I am speaking, so it's all right." A finger rubbed behind Sanji's ear comfortingly. "What did you think?"

The shivers were near constant now, Sanji's head sagging so that the water soaked his bangs. "I... I don't know. What to say... " 

"But you observed so much. There, there..." Fingers petted Sanji's jaw lightly. "Perhaps you've seen him like this before."

Sanji stilled, brows furrowed in confusion. "N-no," he mumbled. "Haven't seen that." It was such a strange juxtaposition, this physical comfort, Robin's skill working kinks from his muscles that he hadn't even realized were there and the more than severe discomfort of speaking on such a regrettable topic. "W-why did you... did he..."

"Why?" Robin repeated, light amusement in her voice. "You are so sweet, Cook-san. Did you see the way he unwound under my touch? How he crumbled with desperation in spite of everything he believed?"

Sanji swallowed hard, almost ashamed to feel arousal press against his palms, threatening his attempts at modesty. "I... I saw," he admitted, his stomach jumping as he remembered the scene he'd been trying so hard to block out, as he remembered her hands on Zoro's skin, her tongue in his mouth and wished...

"That's why." Wet fingers rubbed along Sanji's collarbone as Robin sighed deeply. "Because he needs it. And I like it. What about you, Cook-san?" She chuckled again, quietly. "Did you like seeing Swordsman-san succumb to his body? So aroused and wanting... that any touch would do?"

"No," Sanji whispered, his lips just touching the water's surface. He closed his eyes as she touched him, shivering, wanting it, but so unsure, bound by his feelings of guilty jealousy. "I... never saw... him like that." Why, though? How could he justify his jealousy? Robin was a woman of free will. She could have whatever she wanted. And Sanji could never deny her. 

"That wasn't my question, Cook-san," Robin chided, a pinch delivered to a bath-warmed nipple in punishment.

"Ah!" Sanji gasped, jerking his head with a spatter of water. "Robin-chan... please--" Stop? Continue? He didn't know. "I... I was surprised," he finally added, a damp whisper. 

"Surprised enough to watch until Swordsman-san came," Robin seemed to agree, gently smoothing away her abuse to instead rub lightly at Sanji's chest. "What did you suppose he would be like?"

"I-- " Sanji began, licking his lips vaguely as he tried to recall, tried not to recall, tried to say anything. "I didn't think... he'd let you," he finally admitted. 

"Neither did I," Robin conceded lightly. Fingers crept along Sanji's skin, over his throat. "Tell me, Cook-san..." A delicate touch found its way to Sanji's trembling lips, brushing lightly across the lower one. "How long has it been since you've been touched the way I touched our dear shipmate?"

When Sanji opened his mouth, one slender finger slipped in, just the first joint, just enough to stroke the tip of his tongue into speaking. "I... " he began, when she drew back, then hesitated. "... I don't think I've... Not like that, anyway."

"Ah... you've wanted though, haven't you?" she purred. Her hands slid lightly down his stomach, nails tracing softly beneath the water but giving him little more than this. "Even surrounded by nakama, the sea is lonely..."

Sanji sucked in a hiss of breath, staring downward, only half making out Robin's hands beneath the water. "Yes," he admitted. "For... for a long time..." After all, every firm memory he had was of the sea. He couldn't remember living on land. 

"Mmm," Robin sighed quietly. Fingers raked lightly through the rough blond leading to the heat that Robin had yet to glance at. "Cook-san... might you do me a favor?"

"Y-yes," the cook stumbled, his fingers shaking only slightly. "Anything for Robin-chan."

Toes dipped into the water, a slender foot stretching to touch Sanji's stomach. Sanji didn't see the towel slide away but rather heard it as a hand touched his jaw and turned his face to the inside of one of the bare thighs that now framed his head. "Kiss," Robin purred to him.

He kissed her, without question, without hesitation, blushing wet lips turned to find the soft skin of Robin's leg. He wanted to lean back into her, to rest his head against her taut bare stomach, but he didn't dare, not until she asked it of him. So he simply kissed her, just above her knee, such an intimate place as he'd never quite dared to imagine. 

"Good," Robin murmured gently to him. Hands swept along the insides of his thighs -- admiring of the tight and shivering muscle that she found there. But never touching anywhere of consequence. "More please, Cook-san."

"May I... turn around?" he asked, ever polite.

A slow, pleased smile graced Robin's lips and she rewarded him with the most fleeting brush of knuckles to the desire that rested against his stomach. "You may," she answered. It was her own gentle hand, not one disembodied that touched Sanji's jaw as he shifted.

It was no easy feat to shift his position. His own arousal made it awkward, but he knelt in the warm bath water without complaint, still not lifting his hands to touch her, still not sure he should. But he did lean closer, kissed her knee, kissed again, her thigh, and paused to drink in the smell of her skin. Unbelievable that she allowed this, that she asked it of him. He could almost forget the swordsman. 

A new hand cradled his cheek fondly as he kissed her, her eyes now watching him down the length of her body. Lightly she guided his kisses inward, slowly, suggesting to him but not yet giving him permission. But for forgetting, that would not be done. "Hmmm." His lips were just short of the juncture of hip and thigh, fingers lightly brushing damp hair from his pink cheeks. "Do you like this, Cook-san?" she inquired.

Sanji pulled back with a sigh of breath, just far enough to murmur agreement.

Robin smiled her mysterious smile again, guiding him to kiss her hip, her stomach. "What would you think, Cook-san," she pondered, "What would Swordsman-san think to see you like this? Or if you were to kiss him like this?"

Sanji hesitated, the images Robin conjured against his will playing out in his mind. He opened his eyes. It wasn't that he hadn't considered it. As Robin said, it was a small ship and the ocean they sailed was so very big. But why she wanted to speak of it... he didn't understand. "I... I don't know," he mumbled against her navel. Then he stopped, shocked still at a sudden thought. "Is he... he isn't...?" Sanji lifted his head toward the door. 

Robin laughed out loud at this, her laugh like merry chimes. She smiled at him and stroked his face fondly. "No, not tonight," she assured him and let her eyelids lower a bit. "Kiss," she murmured to him again, guiding him lower.

Still a little nervous, but comforted by her words and touch, Sanji did as he was told, breathing light across her skin as his kisses trailed lower. He hesitated as his lower lip met dark hair. Should he? 

Gently, infinitely more gently than she had handled Zoro, she guided him lower still. Her own hands lightly touched his hair, reassuring him, granting him permission. 

Sanji murmured wordless gratitude as he dipped lower, tongue darting out to taste, then with growing confidence, pressed forward to slide his tongue farther, between hot lips, a flavor he'd never had the pleasure of sampling before filling his sense. He moaned quietly, working only with his mouth. His hand remained in his own lap, embarrassment still coloring his actions.

Light hands stroked Sanji's back soothingly, Robin admiring his youth, his innocence as he tasted her shyly. She was wet and warm in spite of her cool and calm. "Good..." she told him, encouraging, eyes wandering to his rosy cheeks.

He was encouraged, blushing more strongly as she praised him. His lips parted a little more as he moaned, quiet still, under his breath, but his tongue became more bold, his stroke longer, firmer, seeking out her most sensitive skin and touching, tasting. 

Fingers crept around Sanji's waist, Robin's features and breath perfectly controlled as slow pleasure glazed in her eyes. His desperation was to please, to obey -- and she liked it. Beneath the water, fingers curled around Sanji's tortured and ignored arousal, not stroking, only touching, circling him tightly at the base if only to remind him of his own need. "Mmm," she sighed calmly, opening her legs just a little wider for him, taking in the sight of him, kneeling and pulsing in her fingers with desire and ambition.

"Ah!" Sanji gasped, not quite pulling away, but hesitating as her hands slipped past his, under his own. He redoubled his efforts then, panting a little as he dipped his tongue inside her, drew back, did it again. 

Fingers curled around Sanji's wrists, pulling them away from his lap and planting them firmly on the floor of the tub where they were held in place. His attention was hers -- not to be distracted. "You are skilled, Cook-san..." she praised him, rewarded him with the tiniest of moans as he pushed his tongue deeper inside. 

Her words sent a shiver of pleasure across the damp skin of his back and he reacted in kind, swiping his tongue in long strokes, his fingers slipping as he felt for purchase in the bath, his own arousal teased by the swirl of water and unmoving hands. 

A light pair of fingers found their way to the tip of Sanji's need, dipping lightly into his slit and tracing teasing, delicate lines around the flushed crown. But never any amount of friction, only bringing his hunger stronger. Robin's head tilted back, her eyes closed and hair spilling down her back as Sanji's enthusiasm brought flush to her pale skin. Her breath still came slow and measured, her flavor and scent invading Sanji's senses more as her pleasure mounted.

And Sanji sensed it, tasted it, the skills of his livelihood serving him in unlikely ways. He fidgeted, stomach tensing, need making his limbs quake as he sucked, flicking his tongue and praying for Robin's pleasure. 

A tiny hitch of breath, then a sigh. Fingers threaded into Sanji's hair, pressing him firmer between her slick lips -- not urging or beckoning now but taking, directing. Nails raked lightly along his scalp as she indulged in him, firm against his flicking tongue. Even as she held off her own climax, her teasing fingers never so much as hesitated or faltered, fingertips drawing light lines along the blond's length beneath the water.

It became more and more difficult to fend off the tiny noises that caught in Sanji's throat as Robin led him, pressed him closer and demanded him deeper. And he complied, breathless though it left him, tense and tight and oh-so-needful as he was with her teasing touches, never quite enough friction, never quite giving in to what she seemed to know he wanted. 

Lashes fluttering, Robin ran her tongue along her upper lip, slow, deep breaths as her fingers threaded tighter into Sanji's hair. A little shiver was the only warning he got, followed by a blissful sigh as he felt her tense beneath and around his tongue, her pleasure suddenly washing heavily across his senses. She pressed him against her through her climax, disallowing him from pulling away out of surprise or shyness. It wasn't until it had subsided that she turned her eyes back down and allowed Sanji the freedom to pull away.

Sanji shuddered hard, letting a long heavy moment pass before he pulled away just far enough to look up into Robin's face, his mouth and chin slick, his lips pink and just a little swollen. "Robin-chan..." he mouthed, not quite speaking aloud. 

A hand reached for Sanji's flushed face, thumb tracing along his lower lip as Robin gathered her hair around her shoulder. She smiled at him fondly as her grip on his wrists slid away, leaving him free. Likewise her tight hold at the base of his erection released and her teasing came to a stop. "Cook-san," she murmured. "I have another favor to ask of you..."

"Yes," Sanji gasped, "Anything." There was no other way he could have answered at that moment. At any moment, if he was honest. 

Her smile widened, eyes hooded as she rearranged, letting her ankles cross in the water. When her voice came again, her lips didn't move, instead her whisper direct into Sanji's ear. "I would like to see you pleasure yourself," came her purr. "And I would like to know... what you would do to dear Swordsman-san in similar situations. For me."

Sanji's breath hitched in his throat, his hand pausing halfway to his unattended arousal. "I-- must I?" He hated himself for questioning Robin, even as the words left his mouth.

"It is a request, Cook-san," she told him easily, though the line of her mouth indicated displeasure at his hesitation. "There's nothing you must do here."

The disappointment in Robin's eyes was like a punch to the gut and Sanji swallowed his pride. How could he refuse the woman such a request? It wasn't, after all, as though she had asked him to put the safety of his hands on the line, or even as though she'd asked him to actually -touch- the swordsman. It was... only talk. 

"I--" he began, his arousal slipping easily and thankfully into the palm of his own hand. "I'd kick him. Bruise his ribs." Maybe this wasn't so bad... "I'd curse and spit at him and if he... if he got too close I'd bite him. Until... until I tasted his blood."

Robin had to stifle a giggle behind her fingers, genuine amusement in her eyes now. It was as Nami said -- they were 'such boys'. "And if he were to bite you back?" she questioned with genuine interest, letting her eyes wander to where Sanji's fingers gripped his need.

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down enough to feel as he considered Robin's question. "I-- I'd bite him harder, and... and..." It could not have been possible for Sanji to flush any darker, and though the water was slowly cooling, the cook felt hotter than ever, his hand moving now almost of it's own volition, as though he barely noticed.

"And?" Robin prompted, a hand lifting to cradle her own cheek as she watched the young man in all his frustration.

"And I'd tell him he was an asshole, and he'd spit something back that was entirely lacking in wit, and then he'd say 'so, are we gonna fuck?' and I'd kick him again for being an asshole, but he'd somehow manage to rip my shirt off anyway, popping half the buttons off..." Sanji was rambling now, the tempo of his words matching that of his hand and his sentences coming more and more breathily as he stared, sightless from under damp eyelashes and mussed hair. "And I'd threaten to cut out his lunches for a week if he stained my goddamn table, but he'd ignore me, as always and just start pawing away at me with those great calloused hands..."

The smile narrowed Robin's eyes and she was silent, enjoying her victory.

Sanji hardly paused now, his strokes quick and hard, almost painful in the friction between flesh and water. "...and I'd know he wanted it, but I wouldn't let it be so easy and it'd only be with new bruises and a bloody nose that I'd let him have control. Let him -think- he had control and even then I'd make sure I left a few more bite marks along the way. He'd be so frustrated and in a hurry, late for a nap or a date with his weights and he'd push my hand away and do it himself, both at once like he had better things to do, like he was pretending not to like it, even though you could see it on his face, the way he-- ah, AH, fuck!" Sanji choked, rocking forward, shoulders shaking as he came, a swirl of milky white staining the lukewarm bath water.

Robin sighed a very self satisfied sigh and lifted herself to her feet, taking a step through the water to bend and lift Sanji's face. She placed a chaste kiss on his mouth which still tasted strongly of her intimacy. "Thank you, Cook-san," she said and with this, she stepped out of the bath and gathered her towel to wrap around herself again.

Though a part of his heart soared with the grateful words, Sanji felt overheated, spent and sore and his eyelids drooped as he draped himself over the edge of the bathtub to seek her out with heavy eyes. "Robin-chan?"

Normally she wouldn't have prolonged her exit. But he was so young and had performed so well that she stopped halfway to the door and paused to glance over her shoulder. "Hm?" she asked, a hand appearing to trace Sanji's ear with a finger affectionately.

"Please don't tell him," Sanji whispered, knowing she would hear. 

She smoothed his mussed hair before she let her hand disappear again. "I promise," she told him and the door clicked behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was too late to be early and too early to be late and a violent wind was ripping at the jolly roger. With the anchor set, it wailed through the skeleton of the mast and made the ship creak with the white caps that it slapped against the hull. Aside from the wind it was a calm night, clear for miles with a bright moon. From his perch in the crow's nest, Zoro gripped a dumbbell and his count warned him that his watch would soon be over.

For Sanji, it was early. His own watch would begin when Zoro's ended, but he'd already been awake for an hour, huddled in the galley, nursing a cup of tea and doing his level best to think neither of their mysterious and beautiful archaeologist, nor their eternally dim-witted swordsman. It wasn't working. And his tea was getting cold. 

It took another cigarette and another sip of luke-warm tea before the cook stood and left the galley, tugging his coat more closely around his shoulders though it did little to cut the bite of the wind. As he ascended the rigging, he might as well have been wearing nothing for all his slacks did to shield his legs from the chill. With a grunt and a huff he threw an arm over the weathered wood and hoisted himself into the crow's nest. 

Zoro's eyes remained fixed on the horizon, arm lowering and lifting with perfect timing and control. He was silent, not even acknowledging Sanji's arrival in spite of the tiny space.

"Oi," Sanji grumbled, already lighting another cigarette. "Your watch is up."

"I'm not done," Zoro muttered back, his focus remaining on the weight in his grip. He was silent for a long moment, still not offering Sanji a glance. "Is anyone up?" he asked, annoyed that he was forced to lift his voice lest it be stolen by the wind.

"No," Sanji replied, the edge of irritation evident in his voice. All he could hear in Zoro's words was an inquiry into the whereabouts of one particular person. "You'll have to get your kicks another time," he added bitterly. 

It took a lot to break Zoro's focus while he was counting. He was perfectly aware of his surroundings, the activity completely unhampering to his duties during watch. But without threat, to shatter that concentration.... was unusual. The swordsman's arm paused in mid-rep, his gaze flickering swiftly to the blond that shared the space. There was a long, tense moment of silence, features etched in stone. He didn't doubt the witch had clued him in. But neither was he so naive. He turned his gaze away, continued his swing. "You were whistling this morning," he replied, voice deadpan.

"Was I?" Sanji spoke, schooling his own voice to be equally apathetic. It was still a challenge to look at Zoro without seeing her hands. Even more so now. Now that he knew what those hands felt like. "I don't remember." He lifted his fingers to cup the flickering ember that warmed the light around his face. It was hard to keep a cigarette lit in such wind. 

The scoff between Zoro's teeth was snatched away by the wind. There were too many uncharacteristic questions that nudged at the back of his mind, useless and scathing words tempted to find their way to his tongue. Fortunately he wasn't as foolish as Sanji, nor did he care enough. Unfortunately, it didn't make the moment any less tense or awkward. "You're damn easily fooled, aren't you? Idiot..." he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sanji bristled, the perceived insult to Robin angering him more than the critique of his own character. 

Annoyance almost interrupted Zoro a second time, his teeth clenching at the tone in the cook's voice. He could only imagine how the bastard floated on her attention, how he must fancy himself something special, that they had something special. All sorts of romantic, simpering bullshit. Though he figured Robin must have treated him differently... he was willing. He was a fucking servant. Maybe she even let him touch her, where she bound Zoro's hands, restricted every movement. "Nothing," he finally said. Shaking himself, he realized suddenly that he'd stopped again.

Sanji's eyes narrowed, the tip of his cigarette flaring as he sucked in a quick angry breath. What an idiot. How Robin had ever coaxed him to say such things about such an idiot... made him almost sick. It was such a stupid thing... and now Robin knew, and Sanji hadn't even denied it. He wondered if she'd already told the swordsman. She'd promised not to... but he couldn't be sure. And it made Sanji's stomach drop to realize his own distrust. 

"Don't think you're something special," the cook pressed, speaking the words that Zoro hadn't. "This... brooding doesn't make you attractive. Mystery doesn't suit you." The emphasis on the last word was almost inaudible. Sanji pretended as though he hadn't spoken it. 

"You like it just fine elsewhere," Zoro sneered back, setting down his weight as he finished his set and let his fingers stretch. "You're nothing special either, asshole. Don't fool yourself into thinking you're anything but a fucking amusement. That's all we all are."

"So?" Sanji fought the quiver that passed over his shoulders as the wind slipped under his collar like fingers, fought the part of his heart that ached with Zoro's words. "Don't tell me you want more. I -know- you aren't interested in romance," he laughed. "Be happy someone gave you a second glance, you ungrateful asshole."

A heavy hand snapped out suddenly, snatched Sanji's shirt into his fist. Zoro's boot hissed out the cook's cigarette when it was shaken from his lips and he yanked the other close. "So you like being used?" he hissed into Sanji's face, daring him to think so little of himself. Daring him to notice how much Zoro might speak to himself. "Like being the daily special? You ready to be crushed like everything that comes across her path?"

Sanji's eyes went wide, his usually immaculate hair tousled by the wind, his clothes rumpled with Zoro's rough handling. "Just because you're blind to a woman in pain, doesn't mean I am," Sanji growled, a pale hand coming up to close on Zoro's shaking fist. "So what if we are being used? There has to be a reason. There's always a reason. And I'm not so weak that I will allow myself to be crushed by her when I can't be crushed by you." Sanji fell quiet suddenly silent, anger still furrowing his brow, but surprise at his own words sealing his lips with a swallow of sea air.

It was doubtful that anyone had ever seen Zoro's face fall so swiftly. The rage drained in a heartbeat from his features, genuine surprise flooding instead as he jerked back just a breath. He hadn't wanted to hear that about Robin, hadn't wanted to think that her actions were anything but wicked manipulation. And even that was wiped away with Sanji's final statement that left him reeling, staring into the cook's angry face. Not knowing what to think or how to interpret his words. Refusing to believe they might mean what they sounded like. Robin was a sick and vengeful woman. And Sanji was his obnoxious and annoying bitter enemy. There were times the swordsman loathed his own ability to read through the layers. Sometimes it would have been easier just not to know, than to know and ignore. But he'd thought this was one that they'd silently agreed would remain safely hidden.

The wind howled furiously and Sanji's hair whipped across his cheek, making him realize how close they were. Brow furrowed, chest tightened as he further realized how alone they were. The tension was thick and viscous but somehow it almost felt were the wind just a little stronger, it might have blown it away.

Sanji was certain that he shouldn't be able to feel his own heartbeat, not above the rage of the wind that stung his skin, not beyond the twist of Zoro's fingers in his shirt. He tried not to remember the things he'd spoken aloud. Things he'd meant and never meant to say. But the look on Zoro's face could only mean he'd said them after all. He tried to tell himself that he'd only meant to insult the swordsman's strength. But he'd heard them for what they really were even as they'd left his mouth. "I... " he started, choked a little, tried again. "I didn't..."

Zoro managed to breathe again without it too obvious that he'd ever stopped. His features hardened again and he pushed Sanji away, quickly turning to fix that grip instead on his weight. The conversation was over. He wouldn't hear anymore. Setting the weight between his teeth for the sake of having his hands free to climb down was a good excuse to say nothing, offered a bare nod good night as he swung over the edge of the crow's nest.

Sanji dropped to his knees, shoulders thumping back against the wood, a hollow sort of sound that he felt in his bones. It was cold, but already the wind was beginning to die down. He lit another cigarette. 

When boots were solidly on the deck again, they were aggravatingly not as solid as he might have hoped. It took a moment of a tight grip around solid, cold iron before he could move. Then he stalked the stairs, deposited his dumbbell with the rest of his weights at the bow. He wanted to continue, wanted to feel the big weights in his grip. He wanted to sweat and burn away everything that at that moment made his stomach churn furiously. But he didn't want Sanji's eyes on him. Like a trapped tiger, he stalked to the galley, didn't care to drink. Didn't care to steal food. Didn't want to go down below to his snoring crew mates. Instead he retreated again to the cold night and to the stairs where there was a spot in the protection of the galley's walls where the wind didn't reach and the chill bite was just enough to be a welcome distraction. He tried to sleep.

By the time the wind had died down enough to be no longer quite as intent on ripping the jolly roger from it's mast, Robin had stepped outside to taste the salt air and check on the stars. Though she had known Sanji would be awake and on watch (up in the crow's nest, she confirmed with a quick glance), she was mildly surprised to find Zoro, out of the bunks and asleep on the steps. Still, this was acceptable enough. She'd wanted to speak to the green-haired boy anyway. 

Her bare feet made no discernible sound as she approached the swordsman, her robe spilling open as she let go the front to lift her fingers. A pair of hands appeared beside Zoro's prone form, one reaching to trace the curve of an ear, the other smoothing the furrows that Zoro's brow held even in sleep.

Zoro sighed faintly in his sleep before his mouth twitched just the slightest and his eyes snapped open, darting to the woman looming over him. "Oi," he growled low, warning. He didn't like being sneaked upon. And he was in little mood for her teasing.

"Good evening, Swordsman-san," Robin murmured, politely withdrawing her hands and giving a light tug to the lacy hem of her night slip. "Are the hammocks full tonight?"

"Nn," Zoro replied, low. "What do you want?"

"A breath of air," Robin replied innocently. "I did not expect to meet you here," she added, as much to prompt an explanation as to assuage Zoro's suspicion.

"Hn..." Robin's watch was after Sanji's. He found his glance to wander skyward to the crow's nest not quite visible from his position, blocked by the galley wall. He could smell cigarette smoke in the wind.

Robin followed his gaze, nodded in understanding and turned back to the swordsman with a smile. "I see."

Zoro looked back at her, a twitch of annoyance flicking across his brow. "Go back to sleep," he said, keeping his voice low. "You're on watch soon."

"Precisely why there would be little reason in returning to my bed," Robin rationalized. "Your's ended quite a while ago, however. Did it not?"

Zoro snorted faintly, not caring to be reminded. "Yeah," Zoro replied shortly. He was further annoyed that he couldn't argue the woman back into the quarters she shared with Nami. He stretched his back, body arching with a few popping bones.

"I trust you've been sleeping well," Robin inquired amicably, seating herself on the same steps, knees crossed under the silk of her robe. 

"Just fine," Zoro rumbled at her, closing one eye as though to prove that he wasn't threatened by her, though the open one remained carefully watchful. It took great control not to show the tension that was mounting in him just with her presence.

"Cook-san has been restless," Robin noted, a nod in he direction of the crow's nest.

"Restless?" Zoro repeated before he remembered that he didn't care and didn't want to converse with the woman. 

Robin smiled but didn't meet Zoro's eyes. "Yes," she confirmed. "He hasn't been sleeping well in he last few days..." 

Zoro snorted again, derisively this time, leveling a narrowed glance at her. "Don't be coy with me, woman." He knew that she knew he wasn't that stupid.

Robin raised a brow, "Am I?" she asked, stretching out one leg, examining her bare toes lazily. 

"Say what you have to say," Zoro growled, not in the mood to put up with her games. "But don't talk to me like an idiot."

"Ah," Robin nodded. "You -are- different than him, aren't you? Very well." She leaned closer, lay a hand on his knee. "What exactly do you think happened the other night?"

"What?" Zoro said, rather taken aback. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind with his demand and the blush that sprang to his cheeks was not the reaction he was hoping for. "I don't care what you did--"

"But maybe you should," Robin licked her lip. "After all, he mentioned you."

Again Zoro's eyes narrowed and he brushed her hand from his knee. He didn't trust or believe her. "Complaining about my stealing his booze or misusing his knives?" he asked flatly.

"Neither, actually," Robin shook her head with an unreadable smile. 

"Then what," Zoro snapped, more impatient than was even usual for him. He wondered, did he even care to know? 

"I wonder if that isn't something you should ask him yourself, Swordsman-san."

"Che," Zoro all but spat. "I don't care enough to suffer through his voice anymore."

"Or maybe it's that fists and feet better communicate your respective feelings," Robin suggested. "Still, it would be a shame for you to write off Cook-san with so little consideration."

It was uncomfortable talking this much about him. Zoro refused to let it show. "Write him off?" he sneered. "From what? All he's good for is pissing around the kitchen and tripping all over himself about women."

"And what exactly makes you think that?" she asked, her dark eyes finding his with complete sincerity. "Tell me something, Swordsman-san. During your fights... have you ever taken your teeth to Cook-san?"

"My teeth?" Zoro repeated, frowning at the vague sense of embarrassment that accompanied the question. There had been times when things had got particularly rowdy, perhaps when he'd been shoved into a particularly difficult pin and frustration had overcome him... but he was accustomed to using his mouth during a fight so he figured it didn't seem so odd. "Once or twice, maybe... just on the arm or something."

"And has Cook-san ever responded in kind?"

"He fights with his feet," Zoro answered flatly, glaring faintly at her suggestion.

"Ah," Robin nodded. Perhaps they'd been close...but there was still something holding them both back. "Cook-san simply hasn't been pushed quite far enough yet," she spoke aloud, but not quite to the swordsman.

Zoro's eyes dared her to say more. She was pushing him to the edge tonight.

"Swordsman-san... I'd like to teach you something," Robin purred, a hand spreading across the span of Zoro's back, tracing the muscle up his spine to squeeze lightly at the base of his neck. "Something you may not know."

Zoro's muscles coiled noticeably under the touch that strove to relax them. Sleep had not soothed the anger and discontent that had been stirred to life earlier. Her touch irritated it further, fanned a flame dangerously close to sparking an inferno. "What?" he said tensely.

"Ignoring something..." another hand joined the first, working his neck muscles skillfully, a third dipped over his shoulder, ducking under his shirt to trace the long, thick scar down his torso. Her fingers worked their way into his hair, nails massaging his scalp as another hand slid into his lap, boldly feeling out the front of his pants. "...doesn't make it go away."

An angry hiss fizzled between Zoro's teeth, tensing further, seething quietly. For a long moment it almost seemed like a grudging acceptance, a shudder twinging through him as Robin teased delicate scar tissue. But then a hand -- his own, grabbed for the one pawing at his lap, wrenching it away before he lurched for the woman, anger and frustration burning in his dark eyes as he snatched at her wrist. If he was going to be a part of this, he was going to have a god damn say in it.

Robin's eyes widened perceptibly, honestly surprised by his reaction, her gaze going toward the wrist he held in his firm grip, her own, not one disembodied. It took less than a breath for the woman to wrap confining arms around each of Zoro's limbs, twisting his torso, bringing him down to the deck, his back arched unnaturally, his shoulders and knees pinned to the wood. She rubbed lightly at her freed wrist, standing and stepping over his form to stoop beside him, her face nearly touching his. "What -do- you want, Swordsman-san," she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Denial will never bring you satisfaction. And I'll know if you're lying."

Anger blazed in Zoro's eyes as he tried to twist, arch against her expert hold. All of his frustration culminated in that moment and he seethed, at the sight of her, at her words, at everything she dared to suggest. "Not you," he spat venomously. He knew they were only just out of view of the crow's nest, barely hidden in the corner she had him pinned. He loathed the thought of the cook seeing him like this.

"No," Robin agreed, not in the least bit offended by his honesty. "But you can't always have what you truly want."

"Shut up," Zoro snarled under his breath. He hated her with every fiber at that moment, hated her for her fucking insight and mysterious, knowing bullshit. Hated her lowered lashes and little smiles. He hated her for bringing this ever to his attention, for making him feel pleasure at another's hands. He hated her for not letting him get his hands on her, to hold her down, take from her -- no different than the tension release when the blow of a well-polished loafer cracked across his jaw. 

And somehow she seemed to know, to know just exactly how he was fooling himself. And she knew he -was- fooling himself. "No," she told him firmly but calmly. Not one of her holding arms left his form as she leaned down to kiss his snarling lips. "This is a lesson you need to learn. A truth you must acknowledge. You will never have what you want because you will never take it. You will never find the courage to take it."

"Fuck you...! You think you're my fucking savior!?" Zoro hissed, neck arching, perhaps longing for another kiss, perhaps to bite her mouth. Her words burned with acid. "Courage has nothing to do with it!"

"Then tell me what does," Robin hissed, venom suddenly in her eyes. "Tell me why you aren't a coward, that you don't leap for the chance when it's given to you over and over and over again."

Zoro's eyes blazed only more at her words. A new hate blossomed for Sanji for being right about her. "Not a coward," he snarled back, his face red as he strained against her grip, felt a few new sets of hands as his anger threatened to break her grip. "You think you have all the god damn answers?! Think it's so simple as taking it, you all-knowing bitch!? I don't need it -- want it -- neither of you!"

Robin paused, her own fire flickering, cooling as she blinked, drew back, frowned deep enough for her cheeks to show the lines. "You will hurt each other if you continue this way," her voice was quiet, the edge of anger replaced with disappointment. And though Zoro's bonds didn't disappear entirely, Robin's grip loosened.

The bitterest of laughs found its way somehow from Zoro's lips, matching the grudge in his eyes. "Benevolent," he commented with sarcasm. His chest heaved as her hold slackened but he did not attack again. He considered her for a long moment, his rage starting to melt away again to tension and annoyance. "What do you get from this?" he wanted to know. He wanted to be proven right. He wanted Luffy and Sanji to be wrong. She was supposed to be a witch, looking out only for herself.

But Robin laughed, then fell silent. 

When she finally spoke, her hands began to melt away, touching Zoro's skin as they left, almost reverently. "To know the joy of nakama, if only for a short time... I wonder if you can truly appreciate what you have, let alone what you might still attain."

Even Zoro's anger and frustration couldn't make its way into the frown that pulled at his features as he looked at her. There was nothing more he could say.

"I do forget," Robin shook her head. "You are only 19. It is in a child's nature to take such things for granted. And no matter how hard we fight... it is never that easy."

Zoro bristled indignantly. "I'm not a child!" he snapped, his tone a hundred shades different than any of the anger, spite, frustration or denial expressed that evening.

"Then behave as though you were an adult," Robin countered. 

Zoro started to argue and fell short. He glared grudgingly at her as he gathered himself enough to sit up, rubbing at the back of his neck where the step had been digging in. "I don't like you at all," he felt the need to remind her in a grumble.

Robin smiled, the last of her hands falling away from the young Swordsman. "I'm rather fond of you, myself."

The creak of ropes and the thump of boots hitting the deck startled the two out of what had become something vaguely resembling a normal conversation. Robin closed her eyes, preparing the smile she knew their cook would want to see. Zoro didn't look at the cook as he came into view. 

"All clear, Cook-san?" Robin asked with her perfectly formulated soft smile.

"Not a wave out of place, Robin-chan," came Sanji's reply. He sounded almost disappointed that no fleet of marines or solitary pirate ship had spurred him to raise an alarm. He spared a brief scowl for the swordsman before turning back to Robin. "If you're tired, I'd be happy to take your watch as well," he assured, doing his gentlemanly best not to let his eyes drift down the not-quite-closed top of her robe. 

"She's part of this crew too," Zoro suddenly spoke up snappishly, looking at the cook. "She can pull her weight like the rest of us."

Before Sanji had the chance to protest, Robin spoke up, a genuinely grateful --and perhaps just a little surprised-- smile directed Zoro's way as she placed a gentle placating hand on the cook's shoulder. "Swordsman-san is correct. I will take my watch just as every member of Sencho-san's crew."

Sanji hesitated, frowning as something passed between the two that he didn't quite understand, but finally nodded. "Whatever you say, Robin-chan. But please don't hesitate to wake me should there be anything you need," he hastened to add.

Zoro wondered how she wasn't freezing to death in that outfit and the all but non-existent nightgown underneath as she stood and bid them good-night, touching Zoro's knee as she left. As she passed him, Zoro's vision somehow focused on Sanji and there was a long, uncomfortable moment where he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Do you understand yet?" Sanji finally spoke, but pulled his gaze away from Zoro's and turned away.

"And I didn't even figure it out with my dick," Zoro shot back, snidely as he stood and followed in Sanji's footsteps. He bumped into the cook's shoulder as he passed him up, as though on accident. He expected the foot that caught him in the back of the knee, but he didn't expect the palm that shoved against the back of his head. 

"Idiot. You just need things spelled out for you, cuz you're dumber than a brick."

The shove made him stumble a few steps past the galley where he knew Sanji was headed. The couch was probably still open and comfortable and waiting for a few more hours before breakfast. Zoro hesitated a moment as he heard the galley door squeak open and then turned, brushed past Sanji who was just about to enter. Without the cook's permission he settled himself at the dining table, giving a yawn as he settled in.

"Idiot," Sanji grumbled, but he spared only one more half-hearted kick to the bench where Zoro slouched before crossing to the cabinets and beginning to pull down ingredients for that day's breakfast. 

It was colder and less comfortable and carried more tension than the couch would have provided. But after a while of listening to the sounds of the cook bringing their ship to life for the day, Zoro was slowly lulled into the deep sleep he'd been unable to achieve on deck.

Sanji wasn't sure what, exactly had changed since their... earlier conversation. Maybe nothing. But he was relieved, relieved and disturbed at the same time, to find that --in this moment-- he didn't actually mind the swordsman's presence all that much after all.


	5. Chapter 5

"Naaaamiii..." Luffy melted from the side of the red-head's sun-bathing chair, his rubber skull thunking solidly on the deck. He rolled onto his back, sprawling on the sun-warmed boards between the two women. 

"No, Luffy," Nami replied, turning the page of her newspaper. "You're going to have to convince him yourself. I'm not asking Sanji for food for you." 

"But Naaaaami," Luffy protested. "He'll listen to youuuu...." The captain's eyes darted across the navigator's legs to search out Robin's attention. "Roooobin," he tried a new tactic. "I'm STARVING." 

When the dark-haired woman looked up from her book, Luffy's lips were thrust into an exaggerated pout, his eyes huge and watery and oh-so-pathetic. 

"Mmm..." Robin pondered with her mysterious hint of a smile. "Sencho-san... perhaps you should strike a deal with Cook-san?" she offered helpfully. "I'm sure he could use some more help in the kitchen... perhaps he will give you a snack if you offer him assistance." 

Luffy considered this for a moment, but shook his head. "I break stuff," he answered, by way of explanation. 

Nami snorted from behind her paper. 

Robin paused. "Ah," she said wisely and pondered to herself. "Perhaps he needs some stores counted?" 

Luffy paused, blinking, considered the possibilities inherent in such a suggestion, and brightened suddenly and considerable. "That's a GREAT idea, Robin! Thanks!" 

Nami smirked, casting a sideways glance at Robin. "I'm sure Sanji will be thrilled to have you help." 

"Cook-san is always very kindly appreciative," Robin agreed with her vague smile as she allowed her sun hat to tip over her eyes. "And understanding." 

A roll of eyes as their Captain bounded away with a whoop, and Nami turned her attention on her deck-side companion. "Do you think so?" she asked. "Seems to me if he was half as understanding as you say, he'd be better equipped to understand how women actually work." 

"There is a difference between understanding and perceptive," Robin agreed. "He's very young." 

Nami frowned. "He's older than me..." 

"But not nearly as worldly," Robin said to gracefully sooth the words. 

Nami laughed a little, tilting her head back to catch sight of their jolly roger, waving in the light breeze. "No," she agreed. "I suppose not. Still, I guess that's part of the goal, isn't it? Of this whole... voyage?' To become more worldly. All of us." 

"Grandline will do that very quickly," Robin mused, her eyes peacefully closed, slender hands folded in her lap. "Except, I believe, perhaps for Sencho-san." 

This time, Nami did laugh, felt a little surge of something. Maybe happiness. Luffy wouldn't change. And that was comforting somehow. And sitting here with Robin --here with Robin --never a replacement for the nakama they'd parted ways with, but still, Nami found herself thankful for the other woman's presence on their tiny ship-- on a beautiful sunny day... 

"I think maybe... we all owe Luffy something that can never really be repaid," Nami murmured, then blushed suddenly, startled by her own frankness of speaking. "Not that I can speak for you, of course." 

 

Robin gave the barest chuckle. "Sencho-san... this ship... here is like a moment caught in time from a simpler place in the midst of the very... worldly Grandline," Robin said, repaying Nami's shared words. 

"Is that a good thing?" Nami had to ask. 

There was a moment of quiet but not awkward silence from beneath the shade of Robin's sun hat. "It's a welcome change," she admitted, allowing that pinprick in her veneer of mystery. 

Nami didn't say anything for a long moment, letting her attention, once again drift to the flag above. "You can stay as long as you want, you know," she finally spoke, eyes still trained upward, as though she knew that this woman was already thinking of leaving. Nami, after all, knew her type. 

"That's very kind of you, Navigator-san," Robin said and lifted her eyes to reach for the iced tea that was still fresh from Sanji's service. "There is very little to complain about right now. I hardly feel like a pirate," she admitted. 

"Yeah well, we don't do a whole lot of looting and pillaging," the navigator looked downright annoyed at this admission. "But that's what Luffy wants to be, so that's what we are." 

"If only everything in life were so simple," Robin smirked with amusement. This was promptly followed by a loud crash from the galley and some very angry and muffled shouts. 

"Sounds like our captain has overstayed his welcome," Nami raised an eyebrow and mentally counted down the seconds before the inevitable flail of rubber limbs would come flying out the door. 

"Out! Get -out-! I know swordsmen who count better than you!" 

"Whooooo!" was the answering holler as the galley door banged against the wall and a flash of red darted across the deck. 

Robin smiled faintly as they watched Luffy jump down the hole that led to the boy's barracks with an apple firmly between his teeth. "I don't think I've ever heard Cook-san speak so highly of Bushido-san," she commented. 

A chuckle as Nami once more lifted her paper, determined to finish that article. "Tell me about it. That was downright complimentary." 

Robin lowered her lashes, her lips nearly touching the edge of the glass in her long fingers when she spoke again, nearly inaudible. "Normally Cook-san only compliments him with his eyes." 

Nami cast their resident archaeologist an enquiring gaze. "How do you mean?" 

Her lashes still cast down, Robin passed aside her glass while an extra set of hands retrieved her book from the table set between the two women. "Perhaps it is only coincidence that Cook-san does the dishes, in front of the port hole, when Bushido-san settles in for his afternoon set," she said wistfully. 

Nami scrunched up her nose in thought. "Does he really?" She seemed to ponder this information. "How do you know Zoro doesn't do his set in front of the porthole when he knows Sanji will be doing the dishes?" she put forth, smirking wryly, clearly enjoying the casual gossip. 

A light, genuine laugh slipped past Robin's lips at the suggestion. "Touche, Navigator-san," she said, amused. "But is Bushido-san so cunning?" 

Nami laughed aloud. "Probably not," she admitted. "But then again, I think maybe people sometimes underestimate the intelligence of fighters. So you never know." She shrugged, sipped her drink. 

"A valid point," Robin mused. "But perhaps the question is one of Cook-san -- why does he not leave the chore until later?" 

"Hmm..." Nami pondered the question as though it were a topic of serious academic discussion. "Well, perhaps it's simply a matter of scheduling the chore in a convenient time between lunch and dinner." She smiled, playing the devil's advocate, waiting for Robin to make a point to prove her wrong. 

The archaeologist for her part remained demure. "True. Besides, if he were truly clever, he'd make Bushido-san do the dishes with him." 

Nami raised a brow, nodding slowly. "After all, it's not like Zoro does much to pull his weight when there aren't people to fight..." 

"It seems wise for them to exercise working with one another peacefully," Robin added wisely. 

Nami was already nodding. "Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, they usually put aside their squabbles when they fight common enemies, but that's not to say that learning to get along even a little better wouldn't make them an even more formidable fighting force..." 

A hand gently set aside Robin's book as she rose gracefully, offering a demure quiet smile to Nami. "I believe I shall speak to Cook-san about this matter. Please excuse me, Navigator-san?" 

"By all means," Nami nodded, lifting her drink once more. "Tell me how it goes!" 

The creak of rigging signaled the end of a nap in the crows nest, followed by the distinct sound of heavy metal against metal from behind them at the bow. Robin's keen sense of hearing caught the sound of the kitchen sink being turned on only moment later as she approached the galley, empty glass in hand. 

"So hard at work, Cook-san," Robin murmured as the door clicked shut behind her.

Sanji couldn't quite hide his surprise, shoulders jerking as his attention snapped to the door where Robin had entered. "Robin-chan!" he cried. "How terrible of me! Have I left you with such little consideration that you were forced to come to me for a refill that should have been ready as you drank your last drop?" 

The deep scowl that was quickly masked over as Sanji reeled away from the porthole did not go unnoticed by Robin's watchful eye. "Please, do not be troubled, Cook-san," she replied easily as she crossed the room to seat herself at the long galley table. "I merely came in for some brief shelter from the sun." She set her wide-brimmed hat beside her. "It is quite bright today." 

Sanji breathed a quick sigh of relief. "Ah, yes. With such a beautiful delicate complexion, I'm sure it's something you must be keenly aware of. Though I can't believe, in truth, that the sun itself would dare cause you harm." He had already turned away from the sink, grabbing up the nearby pitcher to fill Robin's glass. 

Robin watched quietly as golden liquid and ice swirled into her glass. A hand appeared to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Sanji’s ear as he poured. "Are you troubled, Cook-san?" she wondered. 

Sanji started, straightened as he set aside the pitcher. "Troubled? No, no of course. I'm just fine." A pause. "Why do you ask?" 

"Your brow furrows so when you watch him," Robin said easily, folding her hands under her chin and letting a thumb reach to smooth a blond brow. 

Sanji took a breath, letting his eyes close. It was too much, to meet her gaze and feel her touch at once. "Does that surprise you?" he asked. "I'm not troubled," he insisted. "But he -is- troublesome." 

"You are correct about that, Cook-san." If he listened close enough, he might have heard the chuckle in her voice. It was fairly unlikely that he did though, as her disembodied hand flirtatiously traced the shape of an ear. "It must bother you. Watching him day after day while you work hard." 

Sanji shook his head, only enough to disagree, but not enough to dislodge her touch. "I... I don't-- I didn't used to watch him," he admitted; there was no use in denying that he watched the swordsman. Not to Robin. 

Robin's curiosity piqued and she let her hand pet down his stubbled jaw. "When did you start watching him?" she wondered. Her hands beckoned him to join her at the table. 

"A-after you..." Sanji didn't finish the thought, didn't really need to. He sank across from her at the table, shoulders drooping defeated, but a shiver down his spine that said otherwise. 

"Does it sadden you so, Cook-san?" Robin asked, her hand cupping under his jaw to tilt his sagging head to her. With her fingers threaded beneath her chin, she looked at him with bedroom eyes. "Does it bother you that he is out there instead of here, with you... working hard?" 

"N-no," Sanji tried to argue. "It isn't that... I-- I don't know." He could feel the flush creeping into his cheeks from the way she looked at him. He would never finish the dishes at this rate. 

The hand slid slowly down Sanji's throat, trailing down his chest. "I wouldn't have thought, Cook-san..." she mused, "that you would be the type not to demand Bushido-san's help when you need it." A finger hooked behind fabric, brushing skin just briefly as it made its way down Sanji's stomach. "There's so much to be done in the galley after all..." 

"He'd only break things," Sanji frowned, another shiver crossing his skin as the brief moment of contact. He knew she was teasing him, but he couldn't help but respond. There wasn't any way to deny a woman like that. 

"He does have a tendency for roughness," Robin admitted. Fingers hooked in Sanji's belt, pausing there for a long moment. "But I'm sure... with your guidance... he could learn to be gentle." 

"You're not talking about washing dishes," Sanji accused, though there was no malice in his voice. He couldn't bring himself to be upset with Robin. Even when she teased him like this in the middle of the day. 

Robin didn't hide the faint smile that curled her lips. Her hand slid from Sanji's belt, over his hip and down the inside of his thigh before it receded into nothingness. She stood in a fluid movement, the way she moved like soft wind as she rounded the table and approached him. "And you don't get many dishes washed in the afternoon," she purred to him and with her own two hands, cupped his sweet face. A slow and soft kiss made its way to his mouth, an affectionate gift. Sanji sighed into her mouth, cheeks hot and lips needy for the touch. He lifted a hand to find her wrist, silently asking her to stay, though he knew she wouldn't.

Robin's tongue dared to slip, confident and sly past Sanji's lips, whetting his appetite with a stroke against his. When she pulled back, she stroked his flushed cheek, dark eyes gazing deep into Sanji's. "You like watching him, don't you?" she murmured, drawing her nails lightly down his jaw. "Does it make you hate him, watching his strength and focus increase?"

The cook panted lightly, closing his eyes against the sight of her. Too much. He shook his head. "He has goals like everyone else. He lifts weights to get closer to them. I... I cook." 

"So philanthropic, Cook-san," Robin cooed to him, tilting her chin a little as he closed his eyes to shield himself from her. "You fear to look at me... but you crave the sight of him." She considered him, tall body bent at the waist to grant him her attention. She kissed his cheek then, murmured in his ear. "I would let you watch again if you desired it."

Sanji curse the reflexes that he couldn't control, the shivers that came unbidden with her breath, her words. Did he want that? He wasn't sure. He reacted to the thought, but it also disturbed him. It shouldn't be something he wanted. Once again, he shook his head. "I'm... I'm not a voyeur."

"But still you watch," Robin countered, chiding in her voice. She kissed his ear. "Remember, Cook-san, if you wait too long, opportunity will sail away as you watch..." She moved away from him then, catching Sanji's hand in her own as it slid away from her wrist. Her long fingers stroked the back of it briefly.

"Wait!" Sanji jerked, catching her eye, regretting it for the surge it stirred in his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was desire or discomfort. "What do you mean?"

Robin's dark, thin eyebrows lifted slowly, though no other expression showed on her marble wrought features. "It's not what I mean but what you hear that's more important, Cook-san," she said and touched his cheek one last time before she reached for her drink. "Thank you for the drink, Cook-san. I will return to Navigator-san now. Please pardon my interruption of your... chores."

The cook clambered to his feet with a bow that displayed the sort of awkwardness he thought he'd grown out of on the Baratie. "That-- that's quite alright, Robin-chan," Sanji murmured, reaching up to clutch nervously at his tie, his eyes following her as she swayed to the door. "Your company... always a pleasure..." he trailed off as she slipped out the door. A sign and Sanji sat again, ran his fingers through limp blond hair, contemplated his situation. 

It wasn't that he didn't trust Robin. She was... entrancing, intoxicating, dangerous... He didn't believe she would ever intend to hurt him, or any of their crew. But somehow... despite all that, he felt as though there was a chance that his life might fall apart in her hands. And she? She seemed to think that a stupid green-haired swordsman would keep it together. 

It was a good day to be on the bow -- the sun warming Zoro's skin invited more weight and inspired his muscles into action. The strain of his body, reaching for another rep was everything he needed. Afternoons were a blessed time for the swordsman, particularly as of late. They numbed the mind with intense focus, allowed him to leave behind the rest of the ship. With strength building, he could ignore what unfolded around him and exist on his own, connected to no one...

"Bushido-san..."

Zoro almost dropped his weight in mid-rep as he started sharply at the voice murmuring directly into his ear. He looked around frantically, on the immediate defense. The devious woman was no where to be seen -- in fact the deck was empty.

"I think Cook-san is in need of your assistance in the kitchen..."

The swordsman's lip curled -- she was so fucking creepy sometimes. As if the hands weren't enough. He couldn't stand the thought of what she'd *seen* since she'd come onto the ship. Shaking off the thought, he refocused his attention to the mighty slab of steel in his grip which had trembled as he ignored it. He swung with determination. 

"The hell he does..." he growled to the woman, confident that she would hear him wherever she was.

The tinkle of disembodied laughter followed the arc of Zoro's swing. "I'm not lying, Bushido-san. But I don't expect you to believe me. Look to the galley window instead."

Zoro frowned deeply but he did let his gaze creep across the deck to the porthole at the front of the galley, not letting the distraction further interrupt his lifting. He almost hesitated again though when he met the cook's gaze on the other side of the ship. Sanji quickly looked down and Zoro wished he could pretend that he was only looking out, past him.

"You see..." came the teasing voice again, a phantom touch in the hair at the back of Zoro's neck. "Does it bother you that he was watching? One does wonder why…"

He wanted to say that he didn't give a damn. But his muscles stiffened as he looked away from the window and shook his head to rid that light touch. He shouldn't care that Sanji was watching him. He probably did the dishes there every day. Zoro hadn't cared before. "Who cares..." he grumbled, refusing to shiver as another touch bothered him. There was no fucking peace -- they were invading his one escape now. Not even his sleep was sacred anymore but THIS was supposed to be. And here was the cook with eyes on him and the woman creeping into his space.

He couldn't ignore the voiceless laughter, invisible wind chimes as her touch withdrew with a flurry of petals. "You do," she argued, the knowing and infuriatingly mysterious smirk audible in her words. "Cook-san says you could stand to pull your weight around the ship just a bit more." A little white lie wouldn't hurt.

"What?" Zoro snapped, irritated. The fucker was talking behind his back on top of all this shit? Figured. Bastard. "He can go to hell."

Zoro swore he could hear her shrug. "Perhaps you should convey that sentiment yourself." And then she was gone, a breeze tugging at the collar of his shirt, chilling the sweat on his skin.

Zoro's skin prickled under it. Fuck but he hated both of them. He hated Robin's all-knowing, smug little teasing voice -- so god damn reasonable and full of shit. And Sanji -- that bastard might be even more full of shit than her. He thought he ran the fucking ship just because he mothered everybody to death. Playing housewife didn't put the chain-smoking bastard in charge. Cooking meals and doing laundry didn't make him any more valuable than Zoro. And he could just see the two of them -- Robin sprawled across his scrawny lap in sweaty afterglow, toying with Sanji's stupid hair as he smoked and complained. Complained about Zoro to her, about how worthless he was. An angry grunt made it past his clenched teeth as his weights sliced through the air. And now he had the fucking NERVE to sit there in that window and stare at him. Piece of shit cook...

The slam of the door rattled the pots and pans hanging around the galley, followed by the snarl of Zoro's voice. "You wanna tell me yourself if you want something from me, asshole smoke-stack cook?" Everything was tense as Zoro stalked across the kitchen.   
Sanji bristled instantly, lifting his soapy hands from the water and calmly, deliberately dried them off before turning, arms crossed to glare at the angry swordsman. "What the fuck are you going on about?" He didn't know what Robin had told him, but the cook's nerves were already more than frayed and he was in no mood to deal with whatever had crawled up Zoro's ass and died. It was bad enough that minutes before he'd had to pretend like he hadn't really been staring out the portal with any purpose. He didn't need this.

"I'm talking about your arrogant, bitchy ass," Zoro snapped back, glaring into his face as he closed in. "Not enough for you, huh? Say shit to my face, coward."

Sanji gaped, spread his arms. "What the fuck do you want me to say? That you're a smelly, lazy asshole? I hadn't planned to kick your ass til after lunch, but if you want it now, then why the fuck not? If you want it so bad. You might try taking a fucking shower before you come stomping around sweaty in the same room where our food is prepared, though." 

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind in places that were never admitted, Zoro was relieved for the words and the threats. This was them -- there was no hesitation or caution in Sanji's words. No tiptoeing and no ugly, catty spite. This was real and raw anger. He liked this. He gave Sanji's chest a shove, snide sarcasm in his voice. "I just couldn't wait with your pale fish-face gaping at me across the ship," he snapped back. 

"It's like a fucking shipwreck," Sanji snapped back, stepping forward, refusing to back down. "Horrible, grotesque, impossible to tear your eyes away from. It's a wonder people don't run screaming." He kicked at Zoro's ankle, no hurt, just threat.

"You know all about shipwrecks, don't you?" Zoro snarled back, grabbing a fist of shirt and then shoving Sanji back, stepping forward to back him toward the wall. "Just look at your relationship with the women on board."

A sharp knee jabbed up between them as Sanji mirrored Zoro's gesture, grabbing for the sweat-damp fabric at the swordsman's neck. "If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Sanji growled. "I -saw- Robin-chan make you her bitch, shitty swordsman. Don't try to deny it."

Zoro's face blossomed red but he wasn't about to back down under that treatment or even let a crack appear in his rage. He slammed Sanji into the pantry door hard enough that it threatened to break from its hinges under the force. "And you took it twice as much, I'm sure," he hissed back. His weight pressed against Sanji's, crushing him against the wood with hands twisted into his collar. "You bend over for her yet, Ero-cook? Or do you just mewl from your shaking knees?"

Sanji flushed red with the accusations, but he forced a smirk and lifted his knee higher, a constant warning of how easily he could turn Zoro's organs into mush. "Wouldn't you like to know? Fucking pervert. What, your own sad encounter not enough for you? Have to fantasize how much better it is for her with me?"

"Fantasize about you? HAH!" Zoro's bark of laughter was louder than necessary, right into Sanji's face. He pinned Sanji's leg with his own thigh. "I'm not the fucking VOYEUR, creeping around and peeking in windows!" Teeth were bared, angry breath on Sanji's face. "You like what you saw, ero-mayuge?" he sneered, trying to fill his voice with disgust but somehow it still spoke of the faint curiosity that was charged into the question, whether Zoro cared to admit it existed or not.

"Yeah, sure," Sanji snapped. "Robin-chan's part. You've clearly got a long way to go, shitty bastard." He still clenched Zoro's shirt, refusing to lose ground, leveling his eyes with Zoro's. A small quiet part of him managed to marvel at how easy the action was when they were fighting. There was no awkwardness or discomfort in meeting the other man's gaze when it was in such a situation as this.

"Che," Zoro spat, glaring harshly into the gaze leveled at him. There was a fury that welled in him, hotter than he could ever recall for the cook. It made the tips of his ears hot. His fingers slid from Sanji's collar, reached for his throat. Didn't squeeze, didn't push the breath from his lips but held him tight against the door. "The wench cheats... If my hands were free..." There was danger in his voice now, breathing across Sanji's mouth. He sharply recalled that feeling -- frustration like he'd never experienced in his life. The need for his hands on skin, for the ability to taste, to take, to touch. She tortured him with it, keeping herself out of reach, holding him constantly down.

Sanji grinned, a wild and arousing expression, pressed forward, testing Zoro's grip, sinking back again, unconcerned. "If your hands were free?" he repeated. "What would you have done? Covered your eyes?"

Zoro's heavy hand closed convulsively on Sanji's throat, slamming him back against the wood. "Shut up," he snapped, his thumb pressing just below Sanji's adam's apple. With hate in his eyes and skin shivering with it, he was so close, heat against body's heat. Wary, his lips parted just the slightest.

Sanji frowned, thrown off by the lack of response. He'd expected something far more scathing, something snappy and caustic that he could howl at, an excuse to rip the swordsman a new one and laugh while he did it, but instead, the swordsman was only hovering, -breathing- on him. He opened his mouth to say something, to bite off another insult, something to get Zoro going again, but nothing came out. And damn it, the asshole was so fucking warm. And getting his sweat on Sanji. Dammit.

Zoro's eyes darted. He felt trapped -- just as trapped in a tense and uncomfortable moment as he had been by Robin's hands. He was disturbingly aware of every point of contact between them, could feel the point of Sanji's hip and the impossibly hard muscles of his thighs. Zoro's hand was shaking faintly as his thumb brushed tensely up Sanji's throat. His mouth quivered.

The silence was unbearable, but the cook couldn't bring himself to break it, not with the swordsman all pressed up against him like that, his breath hot on Sanji's mouth, and his hand at his throat. Sanji swallowed convulsively and tried not to remember each and every thing Robin had coaxed him into admitting that night. Shit... Sanji rolled his eyes up and away from Zoro's face. This would not end well. Particularly if the swordsman remained so... close. 

The bob of throat against his grip made Zoro hesitate and he suddenly jerked back, leaving the air cold in the wake of his body heat. A low growl was in his throat, his face was hot. He looked away from Sanji and the yet again interrupted dishes. "It you want something," he snapped on the subject he'd originally come for, "then just fucking say it."

Sanji blinked, sagging a little from the shock of being suddenly let go. It took him a long moment to realize what Zoro was talking about. He scowled. "I don't -need- anything from you," he clarified, straightening his tie as he returned to the sink, hoping that the swordsman didn't notice the way his fingers quivered. "But I won't kick you out if you decided to dry some dishes. Asshole," he added, almost as an afterthought, as though he was afraid his language sounded too polite. 

Zoro scowled back at him intently, loathing him. He'd planned to storm out right then. Sanji fucked every fucking thing up. "Well, wash some damn dishes and I won't throw your scrawny ass overboard," he snapped, snatching up a dishtowel grudgingly.

Sanji huffed and turned the water back on. "Too bad I'm the only one onboard who can use a stove. You'd be crying come dinner if you somehow actually -managed- to toss me." He stuck a dripping dish in Zoro's hands before the swordsman had a chance to escape again. "Don't fuckin' drop it."

"I won't," Zoro muttered impatiently and set his face in a nasty scowl as he settled in to the task. He glanced longingly at the weights now neglected at the bow, then at the blond and gave a snorting little sigh. He wondered in the back of his mind if Robin had been watching. Bitch.


	6. Chapter 6

Something about the strength of the mast had a certain comforting effect. The support of the ship, back straight and flat against the thick wood let one really feel the rock of the ocean. Zoro held out wadou ichimonji, turning the blade and letting it catch the moonlight. He set his rag to the side, letting the shine on the sword and the ship's embrace sooth him.

After a short time, instead of flickering across the deck and becoming lost in the waves, Wadou's shine bounced back, slick off of long black hair, and Robin appeared from the shadows, padding silently toward him. Quieter even than the obnoxious blond. 

"Good evening, Swordsman-san," her voice came, further interrupting his meditation. 

The swordsman blamed the evening for the fact that he didn't tense, didn't jump to the defensive. He merely ran his thumb along the blade's edge, lifting his eyes to the woman as she approached. He gave her a nod and lifted the katana's scabbard, letting it sing pleasantly as it returned to slumber. Zoro rose as she came closer though hardly out of respect. He was relaxed but he wasn't ready to be at that sort of disadvantage with a woman so devious.

She passed him with a small smile, crossed to the railing, leaned over with her eyes on the shallow waves. "It's warm tonight," she noted, glancing back over her shoulder, tucking back the stray hair tugged by the faint breeze. 

"So it is," Zoro agreed. He was careful to watch her even as he bent to replace the top of the bottle of sword polish. He could feel something charged in the air tonight, though he wasn't sure which of them it was caused by. "Entering a new sea, perhaps."

Robin nodded. "Perhaps." After a long silence, that wasn't quite as uncomfortable as it might have once been, she turned to face Zoro again. "I've noticed you've begun to help our cook with the kitchen chores lately."

"He's a demanding prick," Zoro said with less malice than the words should have carried. He leaned against the mast, finding it rather ironic that knowing Nami was above them on watch put his mind at ease. I couldn't think of any other time in their career that the red-headed woman had given him any sort of relief. 

Robin laughed, a quiet hitching of her breath without voice. "I'm sure he tries very hard to make sure you believe that."

Zoro snorted. "It's the one thing he's good at," he bit out and folded his arms over his chest. He sneered then but not bitterly. Perhaps even challengingly, daring. "And what about you? You helping him out in the kitchen as well?"

Robin raised a brow, a quirk that reminded Zoro disturbingly of the cook himself. "And what if I have?" she replied, expression innocently blank, as though she weren't perfectly aware of the subtext behind Zoro's question. 

There was a hesitation as Zoro had to answer that question for himself. He had to remind himself that he didn't care. He looked away sharply, earrings tinkling faintly. "Nothing of it," was all he could say, feeling foolish that he'd even brought it up.

But the subject had been broached, however vaguely and Robin was smiling. "Are you curious?" she murmured, stepping in close lest the breeze carry her words up toward innocent ears. "Or maybe you don't like the idea of me touching him..." She wouldn't say 'jealousy'; she already knew Zoro well enough to know the word would scare him off.

"I don't give a damn what either of you do in your spare time," Zoro said a little snappishly. His lip curled as he met her dark eyes. "Besides, maybe a little action will help get the idiot's hormones under control..." He snorted.

This time only Robin's eyes laughed, her lips stayed together until she took a breath to speak. "Or maybe all it will do is leave him wanting something more," she mused, not looking away now that Zoro had caught her gaze. 

Zoro's eyes narrowed at her. "You just don't let up, do you."

"And if I did, what would you do then?" Robin pressed. She was close enough for Zoro to feel her breath now. 

"Things were peaceful before," Zoro growled at her, accusatory. The irony there wasn't lost on him -- things were no less, if not moreso violent between cook and swordsman before Robin's self-imposed interventions. But the tension... it was so different Again he hated how much taller she was than he. Still he didn't back down even as she closed in on him.

"Peaceful," Robin repeated, only a faint shake of her head revealing what she thought of that statement. "Swordsman-san... what is it you are so afraid of?"

There was no bristle of anger that Robin had anticipated. Instead his teeth bared in a mockery of a grin and he gave the barest expression of a snicker. "I'm not afraid. But I'm not an idiot either. It's a small ship with a handful of crew on a very wide sea. But I guess when you don't plan to stick around, it's easy to do whatever the hell you want."

Robin hadn't been expecting that, and for a brief moment, she frowned, something unreadable flashing through her eyes. But she recovered quickly and leaned in to place her mouth at the level of Zoro's ear. "At least I have the courage to take what I want." It was, perhaps, a low blow and one she wouldn't normally have taken. But Zoro's words had rankled, true or not.

Zoro's fingers twitched, itching for her throat. He wanted to *fight* her, wanted to square with her as an enemy. He was growing weary of these battles of words but then again, he supposed, a fight with her wouldn't prove or solve much. But it'd make Zoro feel better. So instead he just stared her down, anger smoldering in jade eyes. Robin returned the look, utter calm in her expression as she blinked back. She knew what Zoro wanted in that moment, the battle fever practically poured off his skin. But she also knew he would prove only a temporary challenge to her devil fruit skills. And it would get neither of them anywhere except into Chopper's medical care. 

"I think I might know where Cook-san has hidden away a bottle or two of his finer liquors..." she finally spoke. "In my experience they taste better when shared." A pause. "You're welcome to join me."

The pleasant invitation caught Zoro completely off guard and his face fell, surprise rippling across his features. "What?"

Robin had already turned away, footsteps tapping a path toward the cabin door. "I said," her voice breezed, disembodied past his ear. "I said you're welcome to join me."

Zoro easily mustered his scowl again, unmoving as she looked over her shoulder, her hand on the door and caught his eye with THAT look. That look that meant nothing good would come of her. Zoro turned away. He had two other swords to polish. And she was so fucking infuriating. Why would he want to spend any time with her? So what if there was the promise of alcohol and the lingering scent of cigarettes... there was absolutely no reason to follow her...

Fuck, but he was stupid. With an angry set in his jaw, he stomped after her, half hoping a board in the steps would give out and trap him in the splinters.

Robin smirked, not bothering to look back as heavy, reluctant footfalls followed her into the galley. "Please," Robin purred. "Sit," she offered, palm up as she indicated the wooden bench. "Would you like a cup?" She was bending then, opening a cabinet beneath the counter, reaching for a dark, dusty bottle.

As Zoro sat, it did not go unnoticed that Robin opted to actually bend, rather than merely have a hand retrieve the bottle for her. He told himself firmly that he wasn't anything like the idiot cook -- there was nothing interesting about long, bare legs leading to a short skirt that rode as she bent. God but he hated her. "Yeah," he said after a beat. Cup? He needed the bottle.

Robin smiled, straightening, reaching behind to casually tug down the back of her skirt. She stepped around the table to slip up onto the table, her knee lightly brushing Zoro's shoulder as she sat, pointedly breaking the contact once she settled. She handed the swordsman two small glasses and proceeded to pry open the cork. "Shall I... pour?"

The swordsman grunted in agreement, careful to keep his eyes on the alcohol as she let it trickle into the two glasses. He was quick to down his and was already pouring a second before Robin's made it to her lips or the burn had faded from his own throat.

Robin took her time, savoring the flavor and watching Zoro get slowly intoxicated. She knew it wouldn't affect him much, but she was counting on it just enough to loosen him up a bit. Just a bit. She poured him another, smiled. "Slow down, Swordsman-san. It's not a race."

Zoro snorted but he only knocked back half of the next shot. It was very good booze. Very strong and dangerously tasty. He wouldn't have minded the harsh flavor of grog at the moment but he didn't mind this either. This... THIS was good. No one would ever service him the way that alcohol did. "You're not like that other woman, are you?" Zoro said suddenly, looking at Robin suspiciously.

Robin laughed. "Oh no. I'm afraid I'm quite a lightweight." She took a small sip of her glass as though to prove this. It didn't seem possible for someone to fake a blush, but as Zoro watched, the dark-haired woman drew perceptively pinker, her slender fingers coming up to brush her cheek. 

There was an awkward moment that stretched then as he watched her, eyes narrowed and tense as though he were waiting for an attack. Finally he tipped back his glass again and bared his teeth after. "Good," he ground. "More for me."

"You might want to save some of this," Robin suggested, swirling the dark green liquid in her glass. 

"What for?" Zoro wanted to know. Personally he was pretty sure that the entire bottle was going to be his most trusted companion for the night.

Robin only smiled, a little shrug adding little to her vague suggestion. In the meantime a spare arm had grown from the underside of the table and the faint flutter of manicured nails began to creep up Zoro's thigh. 

Zoro tensed, stalk still and eyes unfocused as the touch moved slowly along his leg. Then suddenly he was on his feet, the bench scraping against the floorboards and his glass upset, rolling empty across the table. A hand snatched up her delicate wrist and he glared into her eyes. "Think you're so fucking sneaky," he growled. His other hand found the back of her head and abruptly, awkwardly, he crushed his mouth to hers in rougher a kiss than even he'd intended. 

If he had thought he'd get away with it the second time when he hadn't before, then Zoro was sadly mistaken. “Seis fluer." Within moments, Zoro had been wrenched away, back bent and twisted, his shoulders nearly touching the floor. "No," she whispered, her brow furrowing as she twisted an arm behind his back. "That's not how -we- play." Robin's eyes flashed dangerously as she straightened her hair and took her seat on the other side of the table, legs crossed delicately beneath the tablecloth. "Come here. Sit down."

Zoro snarled quietly, wrenching hard against her gripping hands before they all receded and let him crash to the deck. He glared at her over the edge of the table as he rubbed the back of his head. After a moment, he grudgingly stood and sat down heavily across from her, squaring with her across the table.

Robin raised a delicate brow and poured him half a glass, nudging it forward with a disembodied hand and a voiceless offer. One of peace? She almost managed to hide her smirk at Zoro's distrust. "There will be plenty of time for -that- soon enough. Now I suggest that you take your last drink and pretend to be asleep, because we will be joined by an unexpected visitor very shortly."

Zoro had started to reach for the glass but his hand froze, shock aimed at the woman across from him. "What?" he said incredulously.

Robin lifted the glass and set it into his hand. "Drink," she urged, even as her head turned to the door, her attention momentarily drifting. She had a bit of stalling to do.

Outside, the archaeologist's voice ghosted across Sanji's ear. "You're up early, Cook-san."

"Robin-chan?" Sanji glanced around the moonlit deck. 

Zoro would have nothing to do with the drink then -- a bad sign to say the least. He laughed at her nervously, a rasping scoff. "You think I'm going to let you --"

A sharp and sudden grip bit into the hard muscle and soft skin at the inside of Zoro's thigh. "I -think- you wouldn't care to let Cook-san catch you awake and imbibing his best liquor." 

Outside a hand tucked a lock of blond hair behind Sanji's ear. "Won't you join me in the galley? I've something to show you..." 

"Augh!" Zoro snapped and jerked back. "He won't -- I'm not sticking around for this shi--" He started to stand only for Robin's hands to grab his wrists and yank him back down sharply. An arm sprouting from his back gave a smart shove to the back of his head and pressed his cheek against the tablecloth. The ones gripping his wrists meanwhile rooted themselves firmly on the underside of the bench, holding him in place. "Damn you..." he hissed. 

"You'll have plenty of time to curse my name at a later, and less sensitive date," Robin purred, then arranged herself carefully, a trail of arms sprouting to carrying the incriminating glasses away from the table and behind a sack of rice, neatly hidden, just as the galley door creaked open. She felt Zoro go tense beneath the arms still pinning him to the bench. 

"Ah, Cook-san," she smiled, before he had a chance to comment at the swordsman's presence. She held a finger to her lips and gave a little shake of her head. "I'm afraid I didn't arrive in time to save most of your precious liquor," she apologized, handed the bottle to Sanji with a shrug.

Sanji frowned, glaring daggers at the swordsman's head. "No, it's alright, Robin-chan. You did all you could, I'm sure."

Zoro closed his eyes and did as she'd said, pretended to be asleep. It was better that than be caught spending time with Robin like this, no less being held there against his will. His ego just wasn't interested. But it was difficult to keep from seething, not enough liquor consumed to keep his rage under control.

"Such a lovely bottle," Robin commented, drawing a little closer and letting a finger slide down its slender neck. 

Sanji frowned, attention still rapt by the unmoving form slumped over his table. "Yes, and it was lovlier when it was still full of expensive booze. Not, of course, that I blame you, Robin-chan."

Robin nodded. "Of course," she agreed. "Still... since the deed has been done, perhaps you'll try a bit?" Under the table, the woman's hands had already begun to tug loose the strings of Zoro's pants, another set of fingers slipping up under his haramaki to scratch lightly through coarse hair. 

Sanji hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, I suppose there's no helping it now. And I might as well taste it." He tried on a smile, just for her. 

Zoro was lucky at least that Robin had kept his head turned from them because he was sure he couldn't quite control his expression, not as she raked her fingers around sensitive skin. Nor could he prevent the clench of his stomach and thighs. But somehow he managed to remain quiet in spite of it.

"May I join you, Cook-san?" Robin asked unassumingly, taking it upon herself to retrieve two fresh shot glasses from the cupboard as though she hadn't gone through the same action not twenty minutes prior.

"I'd love it," Sanji smiled, sliding onto the bench across from the swordsman, and lifting the bottle to fill their glasses. "Kanpai," he murmured and knocked the green drink back rather energetically. 

Robin smiled at him over the edge of her glass, taking a sip "Thank you for your generosity," she said. "I'm curious -- why are you up so late tonight?" she asked conversationally.

"Oh, well, I was just bringing Nami-san some tea on her watch," Sanji explained. "I had planned to see if you were awake and offer you some as well..."

"That's very kind of you, Cook-san," Robin let a hand linger on Sanji's shoulder, squeezing a little. 

Another hand dipped low, working its way beneath Zoro's waistband, pushing it down to lift his filling arousal from its confines, handling the swordsman's flesh teasingly as she worked. 

Sanji smiled. "Though I suppose we'll have to enjoy -this- instead." He lifted his refilled glass with a nod. It wasn't exactly a romantic moment what with the swordsman lying there inert on the table, but still, it could have been worse.

Zoro's thighs quivered beneath the tablecloth and though his rage and horror didn't drain, he silently opened his legs a little as Robin skillfully teased him into hardness. He cursed her silently over and over -- but he had more control of his body than she might give him credit for. She might be able to dish out a lot but he felt confident that even if she managed to get him off, he could remain silent. Sanji wouldn't know anything.

"What is this drink?" Robin wondered as she sipped again. She let her foot extend, rubbing her ankle softly against Sanji's through his slacks. "It's quite delicious."

Sanji flushed lightly, still unable to completely quell his natural reactions at female attention. "Ah, it's... it's a delicacy of North Blue. Rather rare, actually. Perfect for... special occasions." 

"Special occasions," Robin repeated, smiling at him as she let her shoe slip off to work a foot under the edge of his pant leg. "How fortuitous..." She filled his glass again for him.

Sanji's gaze shifted briefly to the swordsman. "But..." 

Under the tablecloth, Robin began to stroke, slowly, teasing, a thumb grazing here, her palm pressing there. 

A set of hands sifted through Sanji's hair, aiming his gaze back at Robin who had set aside her glass. It was with her own fingers that she reached out, pulling herself very close to Sanji as she unbuttoned his suit jacket slowly. "But?" she murmured, giving Zoro a squeeze under the table as his hips twitched faintly into her grip. "Bushido-san is a heavy enough sleeper, isn't he...?" she purred, rubbing Sanji's chest.

Sanji shivered, tried to shake his doubt. "That idiot has very selective sleep patterns," he pointed out, but with Robin's hands in his hair and another set undressing him, the cook was feeling hard-pressed to follow up with any other argument. He set aside his glass and lifted a hand to her cheek. "You're very beautiful," he pointed out, then felt silly for saying something so obvious.

Robin's soft smile flickered across her lips -- she was fond of the boyish innocence he had in these situations. "Thank you, Cook-san," she purred back to him and turned her face to press her cheek lightly into his palm. She then gently guided his touch down her throat and to more interesting places. 

Keeping quiet was turning out to be more challenging than Zoro had expected. Even distracted as he was by what was happening across the table from him, Robin seemed to know exactly how to touch him to make him want to grip, to hiss, to shake but managed it in such a fashion that it went nowhere slowly. He was beginning to throb in her grip and was going to chew a hole in his lip.

Sanji sucked in a breath as Robin guided his hand over her clothed breast and the nipple beneath. He watched her face as he pressed a bit more firmly, rubbing a thumb across the stiffened peak. "Is this okay?" he asked, ever the gentleman. 

"Mmm," Robin murmured back to him affirmatively. "That's nice..." She lightly moved his hand to the first button of her sleeveless top, suggesting.

Sanji licked his dry lips and popped the button free. 

Another hand slipped between Zoro's legs, cradling his sac with a faint squeeze as a fourth gently pulled back the skin to dip the tip of her fingernail into his damp slit, the move a breath away from torture for the swordsman who was trying so hard to stay still. 

It was probably only the promise of bare breasts that kept Sanji from noticing the tremble that had taken Zoro's body. But still it was only faint and he managed to control his voice with the bob of his throat. It was as Sanji moved on to the third button that Robin truly upped the stakes when a hand slithered from his back and beneath his pants, over his tailbone to touch him THERE. It was the sheer surprise that made Zoro’s defenses completely shatter and he suddenly cried out, an angry, low, animal sound and tossed his head up indignantly before he could stop himself. His face was flushed and sweating and completely horrified as he realized he was now looking at Sanji with his fingers unbuttoning Robin's shirt.

"What the shit!" Sanji choked and dropped the sides of Robin's shirt, gone entirely rigid as he met Zoro's eyes. "You--!" 

Robin lifted a hand to her mouth, her lips shaped into a delicate 'o'. "Oh, dear," she murmured, all of her hands pausing briefly in their actions. "It seems we've been discovered, Bushido-san."

Zoro panted angrily now, glaring at Robin from where he was still trapped, bent over by Robin's hands. At least the stillness of her touch allowed him a moment to think clearly. "What do you mean we?!" he snarled furiously at her.

"You see, Cook-san," Robin began, ignoring Zoro's angry protests. "A good drink is only made better by another mouth to share it. And I'm afraid I'm just a little bit guilty of finding it difficult to invite just one." A gentled hand rested on his knee. "You will forgive me, won't you?"

Sanji had spent the last minute with his mouth hanging open and it was only now, directly addressed that he managed to close it and make some attempt to answer. "I-- Of course I forgive you, Robin-chan. Don't give it a... a second thought!" What had been going on here without his knowledge? What had she done? He risked leaning around the table, caught a glimpse of Zoro quickly shifting his lap out of sight. He swallowed hard. 

"Don't enable her!" Zoro snapped at him, then gasped with surprise as Robin gave him a fresh squeeze beneath the table and he had to clench his teeth tightly to keep from groaning.

"You're the one with her hands in your lap!" Sanji accused, cursing the blush that flared when Zoro noisily stifled the reaction he was clearly experiencing. 

"Boys," Robin warned, as she saw the fury blossom in Zoro's eyes. She released Zoro's wrists and pushed him to sit up. Hastily he used the tablecloth to cover himself. Gracefully Robin rose to her feet and strode around the table to sit beside Zoro, facing Sanji. She rested her cheek on the swordsman's shoulder, hair spilling down his back. "Forgive me, Cook-san. I was only having a little fun." She smiled at him, a hand appearing to stroke Sanji's cheek. "Would you like to join me?"

"I--" Sanji glanced between Robin's face and the swordsman's tense shoulders, his jaw working nervously. "I shouldn't intrude..." he began.

"Nonsense," Robin chided, her stroking hands urging him to his feet even as Zoro glared daggers at him. Her hands tugged at his belt and his tie. "Just come sit with us...?" she offered, a hand patting the bench on the opposite side of Zoro.

Sanji frowned, hesitated, then finally complied, telling himself it was only because Robin had asked. He'd already forgotten the purloined alcohol. He sat, facing outward from the table, gaze turned opposite from Zoro's. 

Robin's hands rewarded the cook, caressing down his throat and to his shirt, freeing a few buttons as they went. Between them Zoro pulsed with anxious tension, thankfully still covered by the table cloth. 

"There you are," Robin soothed him, turning inward and leaning over the table to talk around Zoro. "Now I hope you're not *so* surprised, Cook-san... with what you saw the other week..."

Sanji had the grace, at least, to look embarrassed, his head turned down to his lap where his hands splayed across his knees, fidgeted. "No, I suppose not," he murmured. 

When Zoro only bristled but didn't explode with outrage, Robin chuckled faintly, turned to the swordsman, "He told you then?" she queried. "What he saw?"

With teeth tightly clenched, he turned his eyes on her with a deadly glare, only interrupted by the wince as she rubbed a thumb along the underside of his cock. "He told me he's a perverted, voyeuristic bastard," he snapped back at her. 

Sanji growled, turned to fix his own dangerous glare on Zoro's flushed frown. "You jackass! I-- I'm not a voyeur! Maybe you're the exhibitionist!"

Zoro reeled on Sanji, Robin's grip slithering around his arms to keep him from throttling the other man. "Fuck you!" he snarled, inches from Sanji's face. "If I don't know you're fucking THERE, how am I an exhibitionist?! You're the one skulking around in the shadows to get a look--!" His voice was cut off with a gasp as Robin gave him a warning squeeze.

"It was in -my- galley, you moron!" Sanji snapped back, seeming not to notice Zoro's predicament, only leaning in closer, determined not to back down, his nose now a breath away from touching Zoro's. "If you don't want to be SEEN, you don't fuck around in MY kitchen, dumbass!" 

"Ssh," Robin hushed, her hands gently pulling Zoro away from the raging cook. She pushed Zoro back a little, the tablecloth slipping dangerously close to revealing certain activities. The hand there though retreated from Zoro's heat to instead find Sanji's chin and guide it in her direction as she leaned toward him, breasts pressed against Zoro. "Cook-san liked what he saw, isn't that right?" she purred to him.

Sanji didn't deny Robin's words, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it aloud in front of the swordsman. 

"Ne, Cook-san?" Robin repeated, that finger coaxing him further until she was breathing across Sanji's lips not far in front of Zoro's shell-shocked face. 

"Uh..." Sanji breathed, his face flushing darkly. 

"You see," Robin continued. "I only ask because I fear that Bushido-san may feel slighted... After all, you have seen so much of him but have shared so little of yourself, Cook-san..." Sanji could feel Zoro's breath hot on his face as Robin's hand coaxed him closer. 

"Wh-what?" Sanji choked, his eyes wide as she held his chin, immobile. 

"I know you're not selfish Cook-san..." Robin purred into his mouth, her thumb parting his lips and holding him there, just so. "I've found you to be quite generous..." Sweetness and alcohol caressed his palate as her velvet tongue slid past his lips for the first time, kissing him slow. Fingers plucked open his shirt until they could slide beneath fabric, roaming over his ribs as another set opened his thighs, smoothing along the insides of his slacks.

Sanji sagged into her touch, opening his mouth for her, accepting the kiss and meeting her tongue, only a little hesitantly, thighs quivering under her teasing touch. He fought the moan that she inspired, failed, and gave in. Only when Robin drew back with a self-satisfied smirk did the cook blink and remember the swordsman who still sat, rigid, between them. Sanji choked. "He can't -watch-!" he protested, momentarily forgetting who he was speaking to, and that denying a goddesses request was blasphemy. 

The vaguest appearance of a frown tugged at the corner of Robin's lips, her hold on his chin tightening just barely. "Cook-san..." she chided, moving back, denying him another kiss. A hand meanwhile pulled free his necktie and another plucked open a few buttons. "Fair is only fair. Is it not, Bushido-san?"

Zoro's brow was deeply furrowed and his gaze fixed on Sanji's face, mouth curled faintly. He growled quietly in response, non-committal but his eyes darted when Robin's hands started to fiddle with the buckle of Sanji's belt. A pair of new hands appeared to smooth up the cook's pale, flat stomach and rub up the center of his chest.

"Close your eyes, asshole," he snapped, shivering as Robin's hands found and plucked none-too-gently at one then another peaked nipples. He could have told her to stop, prevented the swordsman from getting his show in that way. But he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words. Not with Robin's hands touching him everywhere except where he was beginning to feel it most acutely. 

The swordsman scowled at the words, barely noticing that Robin's attention to him had waned. She'd abandoned him with her touch, left him free to focus on the indignant cook beside him. What made the asshole think he was above this when he himself had watched Zoro to completion? And he started to agree with Robin -- he did deserve to see the cook at his weakest. It *was* only fair. "Fuck you," Zoro snapped. "You watched -- you brought this on yourself, ero-cook." 

He didn't see the devious smirk that moved across Robin's lips as she pulled off Sanji's shirt. She attacked him full force now, hands smoothing over Sanji's skin and sifting through his hair. They rubbed warm circles around his nipples and ran nails down his back. Robin leaned with her elbows on the table beside Zoro, her fingers threaded under her chin as her hands did the work.

"It's not the same!" Sanji protested. "-I- only watched from the window!" But before he could say more, Robin's fingers slipped into his mouth, pressing his tongue still and watching him, daring him to speak further. 

"Perhaps you'd like a closer look then," Robin cooed as she nudged Sanji closer to the swordsman, their hips touching now as she tugged at Zoro's pants once again, presenting the cook with a clear view of the swordsman's still-present arousal. "Just to get you warmed up." 

"Oi..." Zoro growled, glancing at Robin from the corner of his eye and then back at Sanji with Robin's fingers deep in his mouth, stroking his tongue slowly. He loathed the blush that he couldn't keep from springing to his face at that sight. Nails raked down his chest and stomach, pinched at his flushed nipples. The soft clink of his belt filled the silence that had suddenly fallen but she didn't open the cook's slacks, instead letting her hand rub slowly, palm cupped over his groin through the fabric. 

Sanji fought the whimper that would have so thoroughly undone his manhood, instead thrusting his tongue forward along the underside of Robin's fingers, unaware of the sight it made him, brow furrowed, cheeks and lips flushed pink. He closed his eyes to avoid admitting the direction his sight wanted to go, but his imagination painted pictures clear enough and he opened them again, Zoro's lap and what lay in it once more all-too-present. The flush of arousal deepened around Sanji's throat, spreading down his chest as Robin teased him. It was entirely against his will that he found his gaze begin gradually shifting upward as Robin worked so that when his belt finally hit the floor, when her fingers drew a strand of saliva from his lips, was when his eyes met Zoro's.

Zoro's back stiffened with tension as his eyes darted from Sanji's blue gaze to his mouth where Robin smeared saliva over his lips, then pushed back between them. The swordsman's mouth twitched, his hands clenching, one on his own thigh and the other on the edge of the bench. The woman herself rested on his shoulder, her pale cheek against his warm, tawny flesh. 

"He is gorgeous, isn't he?" she mused, almost to herself, a hand resting lightly on Zoro's scarred stomach. 

She had forgotten all attention to Zoro now but he couldn't say he noticed, except for the fresh wave of arousal that was stirring through him without her coaxing. Her touch meanwhile ghosted over Sanji's skin, stroking, brushing, here in the small of his back, there down his throat but neglecting what longed to be touched the most rather than obstruct the view of what she was inspiring in the cook. 

Her voice came again in a warm, tiny whisper that brushed soft lips against his ear. She spoke in a way that Zoro had never heard her voice, with no trace of mocking, no teasing. Soft, gentle, encouraging, comforting. "It's all right, Zoro."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, hating that doting and knowing expression of hers. She only smiled at him and let her touch slide away from Zoro. The swordsman looked back to the ravished cook, sucking obscenely at Robin's fingers. He growled faintly when Robin gave him the softest nudge. Slowly, more slowly than he'd intended, his fingers unclenched and Robin's fingers receded from Sanji's lips as he leaned closer. Hesitation, wary, breath uneven. His lips were as hot as his cheeks as they came in contact with Sanji's neck.

The smallest groan rumbled in Sanji's throat, the smallest shift of his hips and his leg was bumping Zoro's, the smallest hesitation, then one slender pale hand found its way to a thigh. It didn't belong to Robin. 

When Zoro's mouth left the cook's skin, Sanji released a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. His fingers tightened, the heavy fabric of Zoro's pants clenched in his fist. He almost, only for a second, forgot that Robin was there, and he'd never admit to it later. Not in front of the swordsman. Still, for that moment... he breathed out and leaned in and let Zoro taste him, arching his neck in just a way to allow it.

A heavy tension hung over the scene and it was perhaps only Robin's presence that kept all hell from breaking loose, her soothing that prevented an attack that could potentially turn into a fight. A light touch at the back of Zoro's neck encouraged him and another lightly rubbed the tension from Sanji's tight fist. She prolonged the moment, urged calm into both of them that allowed Zoro's mouth to move up the pale expanse of the cook's neck. Zoro's hand lifted, hesitated, settled on the opposite side of Sanji's neck. Calloused fingers were a rough contrast to the delicacy that still graced Sanji's skin, Zoro's hand shifting down his chest, splaying there, unmoving. Fingertips dug in slightly as teeth nipped at his jaw. There was a pause, a breath shuddered and Zoro's lips were easing against his in a way softer than Sanji would have ever given the brute credit for.

Still, he surprised himself by kissing back, nearly without hesitation, parting their lips for the exchange of hot breath, a pause, just like that, almost touching. Sanji's eyes hovered somewhere between open and shut, a flutter of lashes that matched his pulse before he tipped forward, leading with a breathy moan that barely left his mouth before he stifled it with Zoro's own. Zoro panted softly between Sanji's lips, the cook's acceptance crumbling his nervous hesitation. His tongue pushed into his nicotine-soaked mouth, the harsh, acrid taste of cigarettes welcome to his palate. He kissed deep and demanding, a desire that had too long been reigned suddenly unleashed. 

Lost in this heady acceptance, he didn't hear as Robin stood and took a step back, leaning against the counter where she had a better view. He did feel though, one of her hands rubbed at his back, soothing while another lightly came over the one on Sanji's chest. She moved it only slightly, reminding and slowly his touch slid down Sanji's stomach. 

It was easy for the cook to become as caught up in the shared sensations as Zoro was and he met and fought off the tongue that pushed between his teeth, growling vaguely and squeezing hard at the juncture of Zoro's hip. Robin's hand followed flush and gooseflesh across his skin and helped Sanji to push green knit enough out of the way to find the swordsman's abdomen, the shiver of stomach muscle under curious, wanting fingers. 

A wave of tension flickered through Zoro, surprised by the cook's hand on his stomach, very different from the doves that had handled him recently. He returned the growl, not caring to admit that it came more as a groan and let his tongue recede from Sanji's mouth, tempting it into his own. Still building his courage, his fingers slid lower, finding that Robin had been considerate enough to open the cook's slacks for him. His fingers all but stumbled across Sanji's arousal over the fabric that still covered it.

"Oh shit," was Sanji's next breath, when he could reclaim his tongue. He leaned back against the table, bracing with an elbow as Zoro leaned over him. 

Robin took the moment's pause to peel Zoro's shirt from his torso, tugging the haramaki free as well. Such lovely musculature, a handful of fresh and fading scars marked his bare skin, punctuated here and there with not-quite-healed bruises. Goosebumps raised on Zoro's skin as Robin lightly fingered his lingering bruises, touch dancing down his spine. He quelled the shudder that stole through him and found new confidence as he went again for Sanji's neck. He was a caged tiger set free, reaching for more, the hands that had been bound and held now gripping at a hip as his teeth sank into Sanji's neck with the intent to mark. This was the sense of control that had been so connivingly denied, the power as the cook gasped under his mouth's attention. Craving more, his hand pushed under the waistband of Sanji's underwear and a wide palm slid over the hot, tight flesh that Robin had jump-started for him.

"F-fuck..." Sanji stuttered, hips jerking at that touch, different, somehow than Robin's. Rougher. He found he didn't at all mind. He slouched, then straightened, his fingers curling over the waist band of Zoro's pants, coaxed into courage by Robin's touch. Rough teeth on Sanji's ear were intent to make him shudder, make him quiver as Zoro's fingers curled around him, thumb rubbed at him for a moment before he stroked, experimental and intent. Confidence seeped into his actions more with each response from Sanji's lips and shivering skin, even without Robin's hands coaxing him on. 

Zoro glanced from the corner of his eye, curious about that and a fresh flush sprang to his cheeks. Her blouse was still mostly open, revealing full breasts and black lace. Only three hands -- one with an elbow rested, one against her cheek as though she were reading a mildly interesting book. The third only just visible, disappearing past the front of her low-slung skirt, moving slowly as she pleasured herself. She was perfectly in control of the situation, of herself, her eyes catching Zoro's evenly for a moment, breaths measured and slow.

Sanji followed Zoro's gaze and suddenly sported a matching blush. Still, busy as she was, Robin still seemed to have time to loosen his pale fingers from Zoro's pants and guide them to more productive activity. The cook bit at his own lip, his breathing short and shaky as he reached to return the favor, mentally gathering his self-confidence along the way. 

"Something worth watching, asshole?" he hissed, a smile pulling flushed lips across parted teeth. An offer, a challenge, a question... whichever way the cook meant his words, drew a quiet flutter of laughter from the woman who perched on his counter top.   
Zoro growled back in response, the faintest hitch in breath and then he was moving, the bench scraping in his hurry. A moment later he was looming over Sanji, his unhitched pants slung low on his hips as his knee found its way between Sanji's thighs. With no hesitation he took Sanji's wrist, placing his hand on the dark, neglected erection that was now in far plainer view. "You up for it?" he murmured between his teeth as he gripped Sanji's cock again, giving him a good, long stroke. He threatened to bend Sanji impossibly as he crushed his mouth to the cook's again, rough, demanding.

Sanji's eyes closed only briefly, taking a deep sucking breath as his body processed the sudden sensation of Zoro's complete attention. His curled fingers tensed through the kiss, not moving until the swordsman gave a frustrated grunt that vibrated Sanji's lip and he growled, leaping to motion. He jerked forward, bumping his teeth against Zoro's mouth as he stroked and pulled, working his skillful hand in rhythms he'd previously reserved for his own private activities. He tasted blood, but didn't stop. 

Breathy pants mingled between kisses and copper between tongues that warred for dominance. The tension was somehow familiar, even as Zoro pressed in tighter, unconsciously seeking more contact, more control, gripping at the tablecloth behind Sanji. It was a fight -- it was a battle laced with ferocity and blood and a mutual need for release. It was passionate and heady and made blood boil. And as he lapped his own blood from Sanji's tongue, groaned deep between his lips, grip tight around the other boy's heat, he hated to admit it. But the woman had been right.

It would not have been strictly true to say that Sanji's thoughts were different. The similarities between fucking and fighting were not lost on the cook. And though he'd begun by holding back, in deference to the presence of a lady, the swordsman had fast convinced him that Robin-chan was really brilliant and worldly enough to not, of course, be shocked at all by anything they might do. And that was really all the justification Sanji needed as his eyes drifted to the woman on the counter top.   
And she, for her part, surveyed them as a satisfied cat. With some amount of work, she had what she had set out for and indulged in it, entirely in control even as the boys before her grappled and stroked at each other with no further coaxing. The only extra hand involved was coaxing herself, fingers deep within slick lips, her panties soaked and cheeks flush even as she leveled her calmest gaze at them, ankles crossed. 

"Hmmm..." she sighed as her only means of making her presence known. "You boys look lovely."

Zoro blushed at the sound of her voice but didn't falter or skip a beat. "Stand up," he panted over Sanji's lips, though his fingers didn't slow to allow him to do so.

Sanji frowned, instantly suspicious, but when a nod from Robin confirmed the demand, he glanced back at Zoro, his own fingers slowing, then slipping away from their task. "Let go then, ass-hat," he hissed, failing to disguise his breathlessness.

The swordsman did so, abruptly, pulling Sanji to his feet. The bench shrieked in protest against the deck as he shoved Sanji back until his thighs hit the edge of the table. Wide hands grasped Sanji's shoulders as he attacked again, flush to him, craving more skin on skin, less distant groping. His mouth was again on Sanji's throat, biting him, sucking, kissing, grasping. Hands gripped at his back, anxious, unable to keep still or feel enough as he pressed his hips into the cook's narrower ones.

The wood pressed hard into his legs, but Sanji hardly noticed for the nails leaving crescent indents in his skin and the awkward but oh-so-good slide of cock against cock. His hands reached under Zoro's arms, circling around to grip the swordsman's ass, pulling him up hard, demanding more weight against his smaller frame. "Come on," he growled, finding Zoro's mouth to parry his attack with fervor. 

Robin laughed quietly, not wanting to interrupt their play, but unable to hide her amusement. It would always be like this with them, she thought. No matter if they ever managed to admit the attraction aloud. It would always be a fight, a game, a scuffle for control. And it would work out just fine. She certainly wasn't complaining.

It was a hot, awkward struggle, not quite enough but both too engrossed and desperate to stop. It was frustrating and a snarl of aggravation was muffled into Sanji's mouth, Zoro's fingers bruising his thighs where they clutched. Somehow, perhaps not even of his own volition, Zoro's hand worked between them, the other bracing Sanji's hip as he wrapped his fingers around both of them, thrusting hard against Sanji and into his tight grip and the slip of dripping anticipation. "Fuck... cook..." he growled, gasped, nipped hard at his kiss-swollen lips. "S'...good..."

"Don'... fuckin' stop," Sanji managed to reply, his grip only tightening as Zoro stroked them both, an incredible and amazingly -different- feeling. His own legs quivered with the strain, a surprise given his conditioning. Still he didn't move from that spot. And after a breath his gaze left Robin and her daintily crossed ankles and flickering fingers to light on the twitch of the swordsman's brow, the grit of his teeth and the way his earrings chimed against each other with each tight movement. 

A retort may have been on Zoro's lips, wanting the last word, but his breath huffed with pleasure before they could form. His fingers gripped bruisingly at Sanji's pale hip, his head suddenly dropping into the curve of the other boy's shoulder. His brow rested there against clammy skin as his focus closed in on that sensation, back heaving and sweat beading. Everything sped up -- they were slick and it grew more natural and he was so close -- pumping them hard, fast, grunting quietly with every stroke, muscles coiling tighter under Sanji's hands until he jerked against the other boy, shoving him tight against the table. A raw, animal sound snarled between Zoro's teeth which immediately lashed out at the flesh before him as he came in intense, pearly pulses over Sanji's stomach and cock and his own hand. 

Sanji's own voice choked out high-pitched, startled, as Zoro bit down, and it was enough to push him over the edge. With a groan he curled forward, his teeth finding Zoro's shoulder in a mirror of the swordsman's action. 

And if he were to bite you back? ...I...I'd bite him harder and... 

He came, mouth open as though shocked, fingers scrabbling for purchase on Zoro's sweat-slick skin, hips bucking as though out of the cook's control. "F-fuck..." he breathed into bruised flesh, tongue tasting salt. 

Zoro's shoulder muscles shivered as it all ebbed and they were sticky and sweaty and the smell of sex and Sanji enveloped him. He wasn't sure he could recall such a moment of peace, he was almost sleepy in that moment. This was what every fight between them lacked -- resolution. A release of the tension that built and mounted and set them off again and again. And in that moment he lapped at the deep mark he'd left in the height of his passion, silent as they came down. His ears pricked but he didn't look up when he heard the tiny gasp and deep sigh that he somehow knew was Robin's orgasm.

"I think my thighs are bruised," Sanji groused, but made no move to push Zoro away. The cook's fingers loosened their iron grip and slid away so he could rest elbows against the table. 

"Good," Zoro growled back and caught Sanji's earlobe in his teeth before he could pull away. "Don't forget, asshole."

"Not likely," Sanji sneered, unable to avoid the tiny shudder that the nibble caused. "Not with your teeth tattooed into my shoulder." He wasn't exactly -complaining-, but there was no reason to just come out and admit he liked it or anything.

It was as Zoro moved away, sinking to the bench that Robin made her presence known again, crossing the space she'd made between them to perch beside Sanji. A disembodied hand soothed Zoro's still faintly shivering muscles as she kissed Sanji's cheek and held her fingers to his lips to be cleaned. Zoro blinked at them, a fresh, dark blush forming across his face accompanied by the faintest flicker through him that he never would have admitted to be anything resembling jealousy.

Sanji didn't hesitate to fulfill Robin's wishes, but he watched Zoro as he did so, catching that look that he intentionally mistook for discomfort on the part of the swordsman. Certainly wouldn't be jealousy. 

The cook drew Robin's fingers farther into his mouth, handling her wrist as lightly and expertly as if he was holding the handle of a spoon to sample a broth. 

"I am impressed," Robin said calmly to neither of them in particular. She gave Sanji's tongue a light stroke with her fingertip before withdrawing her fingers. "I do believe I shall get some rest now. It's rather late." She slid from the table and leaned in to press a slow, lazy kiss to Zoro's abused mouth. She neglected to bid Sanji the same good-night and sauntered from the galley, picking up her book on the way out.

Sanji did a poor job of hiding the pout that tugged at his mouth as the woman left the galley, and he missed the mischievous glint in her eye as she glanced back once more before closing the door behind her. 

"What's so special about you anyway," he muttered. "You don't kiss -that- well." 

"Quit your bitching, love-cook," Zoro glared at him. "She did give..." He trailed off, looking at Sanji askance for a long moment. Then suddenly he was standing, and stealing Sanji's mouth with his own, tongue darting between his lips to steal some of Robin's taste that he knew lingered there. And with that tang on his tongue, mixed with Sanji's flavor he was blushing furiously when he pulled away, vaguely embarrassed by his own curiosity.

Sanji blushed too; the kiss felt somehow more and less real, out of context in the awkward afterglow. And he still tasted them both. "Well," he grumbled finally. "I suppose if Robin-chan is gracious enough to teach you a thing or two... it's the least I can do to... assist her."

"Che." Zoro gave a good solid shove to Sanji's chest, knocking him backwards onto the table before he focused on hitching up his pants.

"Jackass," Sanji huffed, rocking forward again to stand and set his own appearance back to order, 'accidentally' kicking Zoro in the back of the knee as he pulled his pants back up.

"Oi, cook," Zoro said as Sanji turned around to retrieve his shirt where it'd fallen behind the table. When he looked up, a wet towel landed solidly in his face. "You're a mess." 

"Pfft," Sanji scoffed, but took the towel with something that might have been gratitude sneaking about in his expression. "You're not exactly a prom queen yourself," he sneered as he wiped down his front, then his hands. That had definitely sounded better in his head than aloud. 

Zoro looked at him for a long moment, his intense expression keeping him from laughing. "Clearly you are now, though. Good job."

"I'm not the one who just lost their virginity, asshole." Never mind that whole... incident he'd watched the week before. Technicalities. He wiped his face with the edge of the towel and instantly regretted it. Leave it to the swordsman to get his jizz on ever damned square inch of that piece of cloth. 

"So you're the prom slut? Either way." He paused, thoughtfully looking at Sanji as the cook shrugged his shirt on. "So... are you hungry?"

There was a long dangerous pause during which the conversation could have gone either way. After all, the cook wasn't one to take such an insult as 'slut' lying down. Still, his stomach deigned to make the choice for him with a rather audible and only a little embarrassing rumble. 

"... yeah," he grumbled. "I'm hungry." 

Zoro watched him only a little warily as he started opening cabinets and drawers, gathering supplies to make sandwiches. He sat down at the table and wiped away a few stray drops from their activities that he knew would send the cook into a hissy fit if he noticed them. He was surprised as it was that the blond was setting about to make food without even bothering to button up his shirt. He refused to think that it was out of comfort or – maybe he was thinking that after they ate –

A plate clattered down in front of him and he glanced from the sandwich to the cook who deigned to join him and the expression that dared a comment. It was only hunger of course that kept him from disastrous comment and instead he bit heartily into the offered meal.

It wasn’t so bad, really.

 

"SANJI! Isn't it dinner yeeeeeet?!" Luffy howled, hanging upside down in the rigging, letting his legs go a little rubbery. Checking the ropes was BORING. Especially when everybody else was in the galley without him. 

Sanji groaned, rubbing his temple and pausing in the chopping of vegetables. "Zoro," he intoned, "Go tell your captain that unless he can resist the urge to harrass me every 5 minutes, he'll be fishing for his own dinner. Without the floaties this time." 

"When WILL dinner be done?" was Zoro's response.

"WHEN EVERYONE STOPS ASKING." 

Robin smirked faintly behind the pages of her book. They had been interesting to observe in the recent few days -- reverting to their previous patterns of verbal sniping and skirmishes. There was a pleasant new discomfort about them though and to her amusement she had wondered on a few occasions if they were about to fight or kiss. It was delightfully awkward and completely charming.

Usopp spoke up, "That's a lie--"

Sanji shot him a glare that warned of little or no dinner if he dared to finish the thought. It was bad enough with Luffy's whining reaching his ear even from across the ship. It was bad enough with the shitty swordsman harassing him and the weight of Robin's knowing gaze resting on the back of his neck. He certainly didn't need know-it-all sharpshooters adding their two-cents to the mix.

As Luffy's voice drifted, whimpering, into the room again, Chopper clutched his hat and wailed. "We'll NEVER get to eat!"

"You're making the kid cry," Zoro complained monotonally at Sanji. Leaning against the wall, he sighed faintly when Chopper tugged at his haramaki and picked the little reindeer up to leg him sit piggyback on his shoulders. Chopper sniffled into his hair. 

"And you'll be next," Sanji threatened, eyes flashing at the swordsman, though he covertly slipped a stick of celery to the little reindeer. 

"Che, guess again," Zoro scoffed. He reached to sneak a piece of bread when the cook turned away and Chopper was satiated by the offering.

Sanji's kitchen-senses were much to sharp for him to get away with it though and the moment Chopper had wandered away from the line of fire was when the cook made his move. He might not have otherwise been able to catch the swordsman off guard, but Zoro hadn't been expecting Sanji to attack him with his hands. And certainly not with a clove of garlic and a sliver of onion. He most definitely was not expecting said items to be shoved deftly into each nostril. And Sanji was quick. He was already turned to the sink and rinsing his fingers before the swordsman had the chance to react. 

It was as the galley exploded into laughter that Luffy decided to abandon his post and appeared in the doorway, blinking as Zoro did briefly before the captain was shouting, "THAT'S NOT FAIR THAT ZORO GETS FOOD!"

Meanwhile Zoro howled with rage, clawing the fragrant vegetables from his nose to be thrown at the love-cook, followed by a string of angry, colorful curses as he clutched at his face.

"Excellent new technique!" Usopp howled, rolling on the floor with Chopper.

Easily dodging the flying food, Sanji smirked openly, accepting Usopp's praise with a brief, but gracious bow. Even as he straightened, however, their still-offended captain flung himself at Sanji's back, slinging both arms around the cook's neck. "NOT FAIR, SANJIIII!" 

Zoro meanwhile snarled and charged and hit Sanji at the same moment as their captain, crushing him between the force of both. Of course only making Chopper and Usopp laugh harder as Zoro and Sanji found themselves tangled in Luffy's rubbery limbs that seemed to get all over the place.

Robin was well-practiced in hiding her laughter even as Nami sighed, shaking her head from her post at the table beside the other woman. "Such boys..." she muttered disapprovingly.

"Is there something wrong with boys?" Robin pondered as she turned a page, then offered a glance at Nami. She was thoughtful for a brief moment, lifting a finger to her lips her lashes lowering slightly as she caught the red-head's eye. "Ah, perhaps Navigator-san prefers the company of women?"

A delicate blush colored Nami's cheeks as the kitchen erupted into complete chaos across the table.


End file.
